


Die Gretchenfrage

by SilusLocke, x57



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Antisemitism, Canon Disabled Character, Captivity, Holocaust, M/M, PTSD, Torture, dubcon, mental illness and trauma, post DoFP universe, pre-dystopia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 19:50:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 79,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1830175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilusLocke/pseuds/SilusLocke, https://archiveofourown.org/users/x57/pseuds/x57
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four years post DoFP, Charles has reestablished the school and speaks publicly in support of mutantkind before he is kidnapped by Magneto's Brotherhood. There, a violently unstable Erik asks for truce and Charles, little better than a prisoner, must decide whether their goals could ever align again. Unbeknownst to them both, it is already too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Gretchenfrage_ \- In reference to Goethe's Faust. Any question going directly to the core of an issue, crucial, that usually has a difficult or unpleasant answer. A Devil Question.
> 
> Visit us on tumblr! [die--gretchenfrage.tumblr.com](http://die--gretchenfrage.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [ErnstD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErnstD/pseuds/ErnstD) for the beta work! We'll be updating each chapter with the new edits.

Plumes of white clouds bloomed below as Charles took a look out the window. The once lush landscape had changed dramatically since they'd left New York, but the clouds hadn't. The same bright morning followed the plane as it flew west, suspending the sun with them as they chased it across four continental time zones. It was a long flight. Charles couldn't help but enjoy it. The dull hum of minds behind him, the same minds he'd spent nearly six hours with, were a comforting sort of discord, even if the vast majority of them wanted nothing more than to land already. 

Even Alex and Pietro, seated next to and across from him were among them. Alex had taken to Pietro when he'd come to live with them about as well as Alex had taken to anybody, which was to say not as smoothly as Charles would have hoped, but they got along in a practical sense. Alex at least appreciated Pietro's pranks far more readily than Hank, which was fortunate because they even tested Charles over the six months the boy had been living with them. Charles didn't have to glance away from the view to check that they were keeping their restlessness to a controllable level. But, as much as he enjoyed flying, his own anxieties drifted back to him the closer they came to their destination.

The 1977 Conference on Genetic Mutation held at UCLA, the second year of its existence, and of course Charles would be invited to speak. He'd been in Los Angeles for the first after all, had even been one of its founding members, but that first conference had been held in optimistic spirits all around. He wasn't so sure those spirits had lasted through the year. 

Pietro was projecting boredom as only a teenage boy could, slouched in his seat and fidgeting. He'd only barely been convinced to come at all, and even then mostly for the opportunity to get out and explore Los Angeles. He was profoundly uninterested in scientific lectures and egghead mingling, but a new city with new people and places to see was a considerable draw. Charles had already sternly requested for him to stay out of trouble and to leave the university research labs alone, but in reality there were few guarantees regarding Pietro's behavior. He wasn't currently thinking about breaking into anywhere, which was progress as far as Charles was concerned. Ethical lessons might take a while to stick, but some slow progress was being made.

Pietro shook his etch-a-sketch yet again and started a new picture, turning the knobs more rapidly when no one was looking. "Please say we're almost there. At this rate I should have just run the whole way."

Alex shifted in his seat, arms crossed over his chest and managing to look nearly as irritable. "Not a bad idea," he conceded. Alex didn't like leaving his little brother at the school with only Hank to look after the kids. He didn't actually dislike Hank, as seemed to be the case on first impression, but he didn't have much faith in the doctor's ability to wrangle children either. 

Charles, however, knew that they would manage. "Nearly. Thirty minutes, I should say. Going by the captain's readings." And sure enough, the words were barely out of his mouth before the cabin address came on and their captain asked all passengers to be please remain seated, as they would be landing in approximately thirty minutes. When Alex glanced at him, Charles only smiled. 

Not thirty minutes later, as promised, Alex was wheeling Charles out of baggage claim at LAX with Pietro keeping pace after them. 

Pietro was trying to look everywhere at once while still sticking to his agreement. He and Alex were there to accompany Charles, see to his needs, and serve as backup should anything go wrong. They would be free to explore the city - when they weren't guarding some lecturer who apparently might be in danger while they were at the university, but only so far as they didn't draw attention to themselves by using their gifts in public. Given that Alex had little reason to start running around vaporizing objects for fun, that part of the agreement was more of an attempt to keep Pietro toeing the line - something the teen wasn't thrilled with, but it was a price he was willing to pay to get out of the mansion for a weekend.

"How come you get the easy job?" Pietro was struggling under the weight of their luggage bags, eyeing the way Alex was easily pushing Charles along. "Chuck wouldn't mind if we put one of these in his lap, would ya?"

Charles rolled his eyes. "I won't mind when you're not exaggerating." 

"Besides, it'll put some muscle on you." Alex did not offer to help.

They made it to the curb designated pick ups and caught a cab. Alex left their driver and Pietro to handle the luggage into the trunk while he helped Charles into the back seat before they piled in after him. The drive to the university was long, courtesy of the famous LA traffic up the 405, even longer than getting through New York at certain points of the day, but they arrived at the University eventually. 

Alex once again took over the task of helping Charles out of the cab and left Pietro to the luggage, but they didn't have to go into the maze of campus buildings for Charles to find the one they were looking for. The Director of Affairs, Lois Kline was expecting him, had even made accommodations for Charles and his guests to stay on campus at the Guest House, and she was waiting to greet them once they reached the commons.

A but of polite conversation and one shuttle ride later found them unpacking in cozy enough rooms while students milled through the grounds below. 

Pietro closed the shades and, once that was done, unpacked his own belongings within a matter of seconds. The room's coffeemaker clicked to life, the window AC unit was turned up, and then Pietro was poking through the nooks and crannies of the rooms, changing the channels on the small black and white television set, and generally making a nuisance of himself. It took some gentle prodding comments from Charles before Pietro rolled his eyes and helped with Charles’ belongings. 

Alex refused any help. After some of Pietro's pranks back at the mansion, Alex wasn't confident that the teen wouldn't decide to leave unpleasant surprises in his clothing or hide his undergarments in bizarre and inconvenient places.

"So what exactly is the schedule here?" Pietro had finally seated himself at the kitchen table next to Charles. At the older man's gesture, the teen's silhouette had flickered and a second coffee cup had appeared on the table in front of Charles, sloshing slightly.

That brought a smile to Charles' face, clean shaven today - he was beginning to get a little self-conscious about looking younger these past few years - and he took a moment for a leisurely sip. "Tonight, dinner with Lois and a few of the lecturers. Tomorrow, speakers take the podium at 10." Charles set the cup down and Alex came over to listen. "I'll need you to follow me tonight. Lois isn't sure if Dr. Valencia will join, he seems to be a bit fickle with his social arrangements, but it's a possibility. I'd like to stay as close to him as possible should anything happen. She's planning to take us to Matteo's, little Italian spot just south of Westwood. You shouldn't have much trouble getting in. I'll see to it you have reservations. Tomorrow is another matter. I'll find out tonight where Valencia is staying, and I had hoped it would be here as well, but...I gleaned from Lois that he's changed his reservations several times and she's given up. We might have to do stake out for the night." 

Alex nodded. "Get us a decent spot and some take out and I'm game." Even he had been getting bored at the mansion the past several months. 

Pietro took a generous sip from his own mug, a cheeky smile starting to make an appearance. "Pretty hush-hush and suspicious all around for a weekend of nerdy academics talking about biology - no offense," he added, inclining his head towards Charles. "You seem way more concerned about this Valencia guy than about some anti-mutie tailing you here and trying to take a potshot. What's the skinney? You think he's got a bullseye on him? Magnet man, maybe? He seems to have a thing for nerds, he's hit enough labs."

Charles took another sip, deliberately not thinking about Erik 'having a thing for nerds', but Alex jumped in in his stead. "Valencia's supposed to make a speech this year about his new project, a "cure for the mutant gene" -" 

"Inhibitor for the mutant gene," Charles corrected. 

"That. Anyway, that's why you and me get put here on guard duty." Alex's false enthusiasm fell flat as his smile. 

"Erik's been escalating his attacks," Charles picked up. They all knew he'd gone after enough labs that were thought to be researching anti-mutant technology in the wake of Trask, but there was more to it than that. "We suspect he had a hand in the planting of incriminating evidence leading to the arrest of Mutant Resistance members, death threats against politicians....the tornados.... Erik's been fighting his good fight and Valencia is an obvious target. There's a reason he's so paranoid, and that reason is Erik. I'm...hoping this conference will be a chance for one of us to speak with him, and not _kill_ him." 

Alex grimaced. He didn't say anything, but Charles could hear the words "fucking mutant cure" reverberating through his mind. 

Pietro perked up. Charles could feel the mental energy thrumming in him as the teen gained interest. "So you think we're actually gonna see some action? _Deece._ " Alex shot him a look and Pietro rolled his eyes with a cheeky grin. "C'mon, man, don't tell me you're not up for a little excitement. I was kinda bummed out I missed all the fun a few years back. If I'd known there were going to be giant robots and assassination attempts I wouldn't have gone home. I thought it was going to be all kiss-and-make-up and a lot of digging through boring paperwork to try to prove Trask was a total jive turkey."

"Really? Jive turkey? Tell me I never talked like that when you met me, please man," Alex shot Charles a face and Charles raised his hands in surrender. He was not about to get in the middle of that debate. It didn't help that the kids already referred to his Briticisms as 'old man talk". 

"Nevertheless," Charles picked up his cup again. "Yes, possibly. We're here to _prevent_ action, at least the sort Erik brings with him." Charles felt his gut tighten. He didn't like talking about Erik when possible, but he'd put it off long enough. "I want to meet Dr. Valencia in person. Let's just say that plan will suit our purposes much more effectively than...anything Erik has in mind." Charles could tell before Alex glanced at him that he sounded just about as troubled as he felt. He and Erik hadn't crossed paths for nearly four years. 

"You think it's going to be as easy as that? Just have a little talk, turn up the hippie vibe, and convince Valencia to... what, dump all the projects he's been working on? I don't think a guy's gonna just _stop_ several years of work just because someone else turns up and tells him it's gonna be bad news for a lot of people. Cuz I know," Pietro paused and tapped two fingers to the side of his own head in mimicry. "You're not in the habit of scrambling brains to get your way, even if you want to. Even if you get this guy to stop and shut down his stuff, he's gotta be working with a bunch of other people and have some white collars eyeballing him while footing the bill. Won't someone else just take what he's done this far and run with it?"

Charles smiled ruefully. "Exactly. I'm hoping to impress upon him, and his colleagues by extension, the nature of the consequences this research could have if..." Charles sighed, "if it gets into the wrong hands." And, truth be told, Charles wasn't sure that even if he did impress that idea upon Valencia in a more direct way, it would make the slightest bit of difference in the end. From everything he'd been able to glean about the man's character, he was not the kind of radical anti-mutation spokesperson they all imagined would gain support one day, but advancements in the field never stayed in the hands of the lab for very long, whether the scientists who created them wished it or not. Whatever they did here would not alter the tide against them; it was only a stop-gap attempt. 

Alex chewed on that for a minute. "Sooner we can get home, the better." Secretly, Charles agreed with him. "I'm gonna take a shower, and then what do you say we hit the beach?" Alex raised his eyebrows at the two of them hopefully. 

Charles waved him off with a laugh. "I think my beach days are done."

"Looks like we're gonna have to rock-paper-scissors for who takes first shift and who gets to party," Pietro replied and raised his mug in mock salute to Alex. He grinned when the short-tempered blond stomped off to the shower. Alex knew he'd lose that game; Pietro would simply speed-change his hand signal at the last moment in order to win.

"I don't know why you're such a drag, Chuck. No more beach days? Is it because you think sand is gonna stick in your wheels?" Pietro rested his chin on one palm thoughtfully. "Or are you embarrassed about how you might look? I don't think you have anything to worry about. Chicks dig vulnerable guys. And you never know, maybe you'll overhear some crazy thoughts that will make for fun stories later."

"I don't need to go to the beach to pick up those kinds of thoughts," Charles smiled mischievously and drained the rest of his coffee, ”but I really should have a stroll around the campus and get ready for tonight. We need to have a lay of the land before tomorrow. All work and no play for me, I'm afraid."

Alex was out of the shower five minutes later, now sporting shorts and dripping water, toweling his short hair into tawny spikes. "All yours, speedy!" 

Pietro was out of his seat and through the door before his chair hit the floor. The sound of water drifted out into the kitchen only a moment later. Washing was one of the few activities that took the youth an almost regular amount of time; no matter how fast he moved, he couldn't force water to move any faster. If he tried to hurry things along, droplets simply bounced off of his skin rather than stripping away dirt, soap, and oil.

When the teen rejoined Alex and Charles at the table, he was already completely dry, having shook all the water off. Doubtless the bathroom was in a damper state than it had originally been designed for. "Wheels told me he wants a campus tour. Ready to lose and play bodyguard for an evening?"

Alex sighed. "After this we're taking turns." But he sat down across from Pietro and held his hands up. Together they counted out one - two - three, and as usual, Alex pulled scissors and Pietro pulled rock and the only one who would know whether Pietro had cheated or not was Charles. And as usual, Charles wouldn't say. 

"We'll get to the beach before we're through, don't worry," Charles called to Alex's back, stalking off to get dressed and grumble some more. "And you," he turned back to Pietro, "meet us back here by six. I want you both around when Valencia's here."

"Fine, fine." Pietro settled a pair of sunglasses on his nose, then made a show of smoothing his hair and his shirt. He winked at Charles from behind the tinted plastic. "You know me. I'm not a 'late' kind of guy. I'll be back in plenty of time. And yeah, I know." Pietro's nose crinkled. "No speeding in the mundane zones where people can see. You've told me a million times."

Charles let his smile spread into a grin as he rested his chin on his hand. Pietro had a very odd kind of charm. "You do that, and have fun." 

Pietro was gone in a blink. 

"Still not sure it was a good idea bringing him along," Alex grumbled. 

"He's been rather spectacularly useful in the past," Charles turned that smile on Alex, but it lost a bit of its whimsy. "Let's take a look around, shall we?" 

And with that they began their own tour of the campus. On a weekday afternoon it was full to the brim of students and faculty walking around. Alex kept their distance as he and Charles made their way through. There wasn't anything interesting to gather from the throngs of people, but Charles enjoyed the minds of the west coast in much the same way he enjoyed the change of scenery. They checked out the lecture hall and talked a little about how they could defend for an attack that may or may not come, which was mostly a moot point considering the Brotherhood's unpredictability, besides getting whoever they could out of the area as fast as possible. 

There was no sign of Valencia. Charles confirmed with a stroll past Lois' office that his flight would only be arriving shortly. 

Eventually things wound down and Charles had to get ready for the dinner. 

As promised, Pietro was back with plenty of time to get ready. He looked suspiciously windblown and his pockets had additional weight to them, but he only smiled and shrugged when Charles regarded him with a raised eyebrow. Pietro's kleptomaniac impulses tended, on the whole, to be harmless. Boredom and curiosity tended to motivate him more than ill intent, and every time his room had been raided at the manor they'd found nothing unusual for a teen boy's room. It was hardly worth fussing over purloined snacks and miscellaneous electronic pieces when the boy could easily have been committing major, damaging crimes for entertainment and personal enrichment.

"So, how fancy is this Matteo's place? Are we talkin' button-up, or are we talkin' weird folded napkins and more silverware than you know what to do with?" Pietro was already on his way to his room to change.

"None of that," Charles called over his shoulder even though he himself was buttoning his collar and already wearing a dinner jacket. "Only for us old academics. You'll be fine if you just, well...just put on some decent trousers and a collar," he amended when he took a moment to think about how Pietro normally dressed in public. Fortunately for the boy, the Pacific coastal atmosphere was more laid back. "You two just follow at a distance, take a table, I'll take care of the wait staff with your reservations, and wait for us." 

"Hope the food's good," Alex mumbled, having changed into pants an hour ago while Charles still messed about with his hair. 

Matteo's wasn't far. Pietro and Alex had no trouble following Lois' car down into the city. She was gracious enough to provide transportation and help Charles' chair into the trunk, but still fretting about whether Dr. Valencia would make it in time. 

When he finally did arrive, he was everything Charles expected him to be. A scientist above all, left leaning but without particularly strong political associations. He was a man who honestly hoped to bring more peace than harm with his research, and Charles could respect that intention. As Lois introduced them and the other guest lecturer, a Dr. Wagner, Charles let himself slip in and out of their minds indiscriminately. Charles let himself slip in and out of their minds indiscriminately, fearing the worst, as he’d been living in relative seclusion at the school. He was relieved to find that the hope and fervor of their first conference had not entirely faded.

Pietro and Alex both behaved themselves well enough, but it was very plain that the conversation and atmosphere were not to their tastes. Both were fidgety, particularly as they couldn't entertain themselves and still keep up a pretense of respect and good manners while doing so. Neither could they hold a side conversation with each other. Both young men got along as well as could be desired, but they were vastly different in personality and interests. There simply wasn't enough overlap for them to become good friends.

Charles tried not to let their disease at the table two rows across from his distract him from his own conversation. The more he pulled Valencia into dialog, the more it was clear the man already agreed with most of what Charles had to say. Lois had expected this, had known Charles would attempt to draw Valencia into considering the bigger picture of his research and the impact it could have, whether there were any fail safes that could be created, whether Valencia would ever consider putting it aside altogether. Whether that would even matter. None of those at the conference knew of Charles' status as a mutant himself, but all were more than familiar with his outspoken support for their treatment. Knowing Charles would confront Valencia was half the reason Lois invited them to dinner, and that suited Charles just fine. 

But in the end there was only so much that could be done. At least Valencia's motives could no longer be held in question. Tomorrow, however, would set the stage for their true debate, opposing voices included. 

No disturbances came that night either. Charles could sense nothing out of the ordinary, and once they bade their goodbyes, Alex and Pietro tailed Valencia back to his Wilshire hotel without incident before meeting with Charles at the guest house.

Pietro had yawned and stretched with a too-casual demeanor that Charles recognized as a sign that something was on the teen's mind. He'd dashed off to his room with a half-hearted goodnight, but it didn't take a genius, or even a telepath, to figure out what was preoccupying him. Boys would be boys, and some thoughts were better left untouched and unheard, particularly to avoid embarrassing situations.

It did not escape Charles' notice, however, that they were no less than a short neighborhood away from the increasingly notorious Playboy Mansion. 

He sighed and shook his head at Alex's questioning glance. " _I_ am going to get some shut-eye. Make sure he's awake in the morning, please?" 

"Right." Alex's mouth thinned, not looking forward to dealing with whatever Pietro was up to before he had to help Charles down to the conference. "Goodnight." 

Charles returned the parting sentiment and wheeled himself off to his room. As usual, everything was too high, but he managed to go about his nightly routine and climb into bed with the help of the frame. He wasn’t willing to ask for Alex or Pietro’s help, not for this. 

It took him a long time to fall asleep, distracted at first by the minds of his companions and then his own. Every little thing kept him up. He tossed and turned until, at some point, he managed to find slumber. 

They woke at a decent time, albeit somewhat groggy from jet lag. 

Pietro, in particular, had tell-tale dark circles under his eyes that spoke to some sort of late-night escapades, but the teen was entirely straight-faced when he joined Charles and Alex to descend to the Guest House dining area for the university's continental breakfast. It was Alex's turn to relax for a bit, so Pietro was the one who set about pushing Charles where he wanted to go and fetching whatever food or drink caught his fancy.

The day's lectures were set to start not long after breakfast. 9:30 would see people filtering into the De Neve Plaza auditorium. A little over four hundred people would be packed into one room to listen to the day's speakers. Charles, in a mix of fortune, would be placed very close to the stage. His view and hearing of the lectures would be superb, but it limited how well he was able to keep an eye on the rest of the room, and it would be difficult to exit quickly should an emergency occur.

He was also slated as first speaker. Knowing him and his pet topics, Lois had intended to start off on positive note. No one could do that better than Charles. He recognized the benefit of this particular decision, though his feeling was more temperate than the crowds were led to believe from his speech. 

He did not talk about mutant radicals, or their lab raids. He did not talk about the death threats sent to politicians both opposing and encouraging mutant inclusion in society, and he did not talk about the most blatant show of power the mutant force of renegade activists, some would call terrorists, had shown the world thus far - 149 tornadoes unleashed across the United States only a year after the mutant Magneto's escape from the Pentagon. 

What he did talk about was the success of the burgeoning civil rights movement across America, its successes and betterment of their culture for embracing differences. He sounded trite to his own ears at times, and the way he likened the plight of mutants to this movement would earn him no small share of controversy, but once he got started, he found himself hoping, praying that someone would listen. Hoping that just enough minds in the audience would turn to him. 

When he finished, a rippling of applause could be heard resounding through the auditorium. Enthusiastic applause. Charles felt invigorated, raw from his own emotion displayed so openly on stage. Handing the microphone off to Lois so she could return it to the much too tall podium he hadn't seen fit to use and turning himself back across the platform was all a bit of a haze. Coming down from that kind of exertion, of performance for so many thoughts focused on him, was an exhilarating experience. He gave a smile and a nod to Dr. Valencia, who was clapping himself, as Charles passed.

Benjamin Wagner was the next to rise and make his way to the podium, delivering a talk about research into cancerous and non-cancerous mutations being treated with radiological compounds. Pietro nodded as Charles resituated himself in the empty space near the front row, since there was no space to accommodate him near the regular seating. Pietro was making no attempt to even pretend to be paying attention; he'd flipped his headphones up and had found extra batteries for his prototype audio player somewhere. Slouched down in his seat, he was glancing around and watching the crowd without much interest. 

Alex could just be seen in the back of the room where he'd agreed to take up watch. He was doing well enough, but his head kept turning towards a rather stunning brunette sitting a few seats away. His distraction only increased when she noticed his glances and winked back.

Charles gave them both a mental nudge when half an hour later the crowd applauded for Dr. Wagner. It was Valencia up next. He took the stage slowly and methodically as Wagner and Lois shook hands. Lois had scheduled him as the finale for impact, and it left a mildly sour taste in Charles' mouth. 

She greeted Valencia and he thanked her and the audience for being there. Another small round of applause went up, and then he got started. 

Though Charles was one of the most interested listeners in the auditorium, he found himself scanning the hall for the first five minutes more than paying Valencia the attention he deserved. Half of him expected something to go wrong. The other half said that he was worrying too much. His presence alone might be enough to keep the Brotherhood away, and not necessarily because they feared him. 

His reach skittered through the plaza foyer, out into the halls, across the lawn, and Charles found all to be well. 

Distantly, a sound of sirens went up somewhere in the city. It was too far to be a fire drill in an adjacent building on campus. Few people in the auditorium even noticed with the speakers turned up as loud as they were. It was only when another set of sirens joined from another direction, and then another, and then _another_ , that a few people began to blink and look around with vague confusion and concern.

The floor of the auditorium rattled unexpectedly, setting up a panic when the violent trembling refused to calm like the minor quakes LA residents were used to. People began to shout, toppling over and crawling over one another in a bid to reach one of the exits.

Charles grabbed the wheels of his chair, Alex ducking to help. Pietro shot up out of his seat. 

_'I can't sense anything yet,'_ Charles warned them, not trying to speak over the sirens and the screams as Alex and Pietro tried to drag him away from the crowd. _'Go, find Valencia. It's him they'll be after.'_ Charles was already turning his thoughts to the crowd, finding their minds like pinpricks of light, jostling and startled. He cast out to them, sending a wave of calm rippling through the auditorium and, like lightning bugs in a net, urged them out the doors and away as quickly as possible. 

It was still awkward. People stumbled all around them, and Charles searched for Valencia.... _'There. The other side of the stage.'_ He'd fallen, was trying to go for the side exit. Charles still couldn't sense any other mutants. They could not have started this quake nearby. 

Pietro took off.

And got pinned to the wall several feet higher, gasping in shock while his feet still tried to move. In a flash, figures that hadn't been there before appeared around the room. 

There was a shimmering quality to the air around Pietro, a thickness that was distorting the light from the overhead halogen bulbs.

It happened too quickly for Charles to properly react. He'd just begun to touch the minds of the mutants teleporting into the building when a hulking, bestial man with a shock of blond hair ploughed through the crowds and tackled Alex. 

Charles saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye from the opposite doorway.

He had just enough time to turn his head and glimpse a familiar silhouette before a metal needle sunk into his neck.

He cried out and bent double. He grabbed for it and threw it down, but it was too late. Whatever had been in it was already in his system. He waited for the black out that never came. Alex needed help. Pietro needed help. And Charles couldn't fight the constricting nausea in his chest as he tried to ignore the man descending through the plaza foyer, tried to focus on the others. 

Charles reached out... Alex got off a shot at his opponent. It sent him flying back and then Alex was on his feet. But he couldn't do more. There were too many bodies in the way, in too tight a space. 

Charles reached again.

The auditorium's quaking increased in magnitude, and the sound of gunfire echoed from the surrounding hallways in every direction. The crowd stumbled to a halt and began trampling over one another in confusion and fright. There was no place to hide. 

Gunshots were all around them, heard from the outside, but unseen. Charles should have noticed anyone carrying that many weapons. 

He reached out again, harder this time, frustrated. Charles grappled for the beast of a mutant's mind...and couldn't catch him. Couldn't even feel him. He couldn't feel anyone. The crowd was suddenly lost to him. Their panic had spiked when he'd lost his soothing efforts.

For the first time, fear gripped at Charles. 

He tried to shout over the crowd. The ground was still moving. He lost sight of that familiar figure through the bodies. He lost and regained sight of Alex and then lost him again. 

They would be ok, Charles told himself. Magneto would leave them alone. They were mutants. But Valencia, he would not. Lois, he would not. Anyone else in the auditorium might not make it out. 

Charles couldn't shout loud enough for Alex to free Pietro and run with their human targets. 

Sounds of metal groaning and twisting filled the air, and the auditorium seats were ripped up from where they'd been bolted to the floor. They parted like water, pressing the human occupants of the theater against either wall and well out of Magneto's way. His gloved hand clenched and two more slivers of shining metal glittered and flew off. One struck Alex, and the other hit Pietro, who was still struggling halfway up the auditorium wall.

Magneto's helmet turned back and forth as he strode toward Charles.

With the humans out of the way, the mutants in the room fell into line. The bestial man had slung Alex over his shoulder and didn't seem to care one bit about how his burden was struggling to fight back; another man with reddish-blond hair followed after him. Last in line was a woman with dark hair and a severe expression. She smiled and reached out to touch the blond.

The two of them, and Alex, blinked out of view. She reappeared a moment later. Pietro levitated down from his position towards the second henchman, the woman touched both of them, and then they were gone.

Magneto closed the distance between himself and Charles, sinking to one knee as soon as he was within arm's reach. The rest of the auditorium might have ceased to exist, so far as Magneto was concerned - his grey-blue eyes never wavered from Charles' face. "Time to go, old friend."

Charles tried to get his mouth to work. "I'm not going anywhere with you." Even he could hear the tremor in his own voice. This wasn't right. The Brotherhood should have been after Valencia. Erik had avoided him for years. 

Charles had gravely miscalculated. 

The wrench he'd felt at seeing 'Magneto' for the first time in person after so long overshadowed the fear welling inside of him. Erik looked like he was molded out of steel himself. The lights above them should have touched him, but the helmet set his strong features in shadow. Charles' hands tightened on the wheels. He reached deep inside himself to make his voice steady again, to find the surety he felt when he knew what everyone in the room was thinking. He hadn't been able to read Erik in years. This was no different. "Why don't you call off your men and we can speak with civility for once."

"I certainly hope we will, Charles, once we're away from here and somewhere more comfortable. I have no great desire to be interrupted in the middle of a conversation." The teleporter reappeared behind Erik, but he spared her barely a glance. He rose back to his feet and, with a gesture, Charles' wheelchair rose off the ground and came to rest, hovering, at his side like a dog at heel. One gloved hand curled around one of the chair's handles and Charles gripped it tight, fearing that he might fall.

"Astra, my dear, I think we're done here. Take us back and go fetch the others."

The brunette nodded stiffly and reached out to touch both Erik and Charles. An odd feeling rippled through Charles, like an intangible lasso tightening around them. There was a yanking sensation, a feeling of speed though there was no rush of wind, and everything went black for a split second before they materialized somewhere very different from the auditorium.


	2. Chapter 2

They were in a giant, echoing grand hall - something reminiscent of the opulent mansions of the 1920's that were scattered on the east coast. _Newport_ , Charles' memory supplied.

Unlike those old buildings, their surroundings were in a state of disrepair. The marble flooring was cracked, the carpet on a nearby circular staircase stained and dirty. An electric chandelier overhead shone dimly, only half-heartedly cleaned of its dust and spider webs.

Charles had pitched himself to the side, trying to escape the grasp of Astra's powers. Uselessly, as Erik's hold on his chair was solid. 

"What did you do to me?" Charles shouted, but he already knew. The effect was not unfamiliar. With a surge of anger he flung himself at Erik, fingers like claws grabbing onto his cape, pulling him down, trying to throw the man off balance. "What did you do with them?" Charles threw everything he had into it, his aggression fuelled by fear. Fear that he was alone, that he did not have his powers, that Alex and Pietro were gone, that every other person at that conference would be witness to another attack by the Brotherhood, that perhaps they would not be merciful this time. 

Erik struggled to catch Charles' wrists and force him to still. In a moment of exasperation he sighed; a ripple passed through the room and every piece of metal vibrated for a split second. One of the electric candelabra sconces melted and flew across the room, splitting in two and twining around Charles wrists like snakes. Slowly, gently, they drew Charles' wrists down until they were against the armrests of his chair.

"Calm, Charles. What was done to you was just a temporary precaution, as it was with the others. Your two companions are here and quite safe among their own kind."

Charles finally stopped fighting. He was breathing heavily, winded on emotion and exertion. Erik might as well have been made of stone for all the good Charles' fists had done. 

"Temporary?" Charles spat, brows raised in a mockery of astonishment. "You plan to give me my mind back around your thugs? You plan to let me go?" He felt a laugh bubble up within him. He was starting to feel hysterical. He was such a fool. "You were never after Valencia, were you?" 

Charles' voice echoed through the empty hall, reverberating off carved marble. The air felt cold.

"I am hoping we can reach a point where I can trust you not to manipulate the others here, or tear into their minds," Erik replied quietly. "I'm not certain how far you're willing to compromise or stretch your ethics, for them. I have no such illusions about myself." He touched gloved fingertips to one pointed edge of his helmet.

"Valencia would have been a bonus, but his work has progressed too far. I don't believe he intends us harm, but the decisions for what to do with his research no longer rest in his hands. If he was taken out of the equation, it wouldn't stop or even slow the work." Erik began pacing, footsteps echoing through the empty hall. Something wasn't quite right about his cadence - an inelegant jerkiness, not from injury. Fatigue, perhaps, nerves not quite firing correctly. "Dealing with the so-called 'mutant cure' compound was not our goal today."

Erik's head turned, left and right, distracted. It was another moment before his gaze finally resettled on Charles. 

Without access to Erik's mind and with all of that metal obscuring much of his face, it was difficult for Charles to get a read on what he was thinking. "...I was hoping we could talk and come to an understanding,” Erik continued. “If we cannot, in the end, I will let you go. After I make arrangements to ensure you cannot sabotage our group and our efforts, but I will let you go, just as you let me go. It's the very least I can do."

Charles stilled. "What are you planning, Erik?" Conflicting suspicions roiled within him. On the one hand, Erik was sounding very level headed, but there was something in that way he moved that unsettled Charles, and Charles found himself straining as hard as he could to read Erik. His body language, his tone, the way he would look not only at but _into_ Charles and then away just as quickly. Anything. Charles was never good at this without his power. And, reasonable or not, Erik wouldn't have set the Brotherhood off to kidnap him without a reason. More reason than a few days of parley over tea in...whatever this place was. Charles glanced for the exits, but realized with a strange sense of foreboding that though there were tall windows, once elegantly carved, placed high on all three sides of the room, no light could be seen through any of them. Only inky black night. 

"You're going to have to be more specific if you want a better answer, Charles. My goals of keeping mutantkind safe, seeing us rise to our full potential instead of living in fear and subservience haven't changed."

Erik stopped in midstride. When Charles followed his line of sight, all he could see was an empty doorway, as shadowed as the room's windows. Erik stared, unmoving, for a few seconds, then looked away and continued walking as if he'd never been interrupted. "I've missed our friendship. How things used to be, between us. I still don't consider our goals to be so terribly different."

Charles wetted his lips, choosing his next words carefully. "I don't either," he swallowed, noting the way Erik's eyes tracked him immediately. "But. That doesn't mean I don't consider what you've been doing more harm than good. The tactics you use...." Charles couldn't help but search for Erik's eyes when he said it, but quickly found that he couldn't hold that gaze. It was too intense. Too much Erik. Too much Magneto. 

Charles didn't have to say it, besides. The wake of that summer after Trask still loomed between them. A display of mutant power ripping in so many funnels across the Midwest and farther out to places that had never seen weather so fearsome, leaving carnage in its wake. There had been deaths after that, too. Nothing on such a grand scale, but it never sat well with Charles afterward, waiting for that kind of rage to spill forth from Erik and his Brotherhood again.

"I haven't forgotten that you don't have experience with war." Erik shook his head sharply when he saw Charles open his mouth to interrupt. "It is war, on a small scale. Covert, not overt. It hasn't spread yet, and that's exactly what I'm trying to prevent. I'm not a fool, Charles. Everything is calculated. I'm trying to prevent the worst outcomes from happening, for mutants and humans, despi-"

The catch in Erik's speech was almost dismissible as fatigue making him stumble over his words, but exhaustion wouldn't have caused all the metal in Charles' wheelchair to tremble for a split-second. "Despite everything that's happened already. The best I can do, what I _am_ doing, is to minimize the chances of collateral damage as much as possible."

Charles felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. There was nothing else in the room. Nothing that he could see. But on Brotherhood territory, that didn't necessarily mean anything. 

"If that's true, then I'm willing to talk," Charles narrowed his eyes. Preventing war was what he wanted as well, but Erik already knew that. He would know just what to say to Charles to get him to...to what? Without telepathy, he was going to be easy to manipulate, wanting to take what people told him at face value as if their minds had told him rather than their mouths. Charles discovered that when he'd first begun taking the serum. But it would be little benefit to Magneto here. He could, however, not find it in himself to trust so blindly now, not with Erik. His hands shifted restlessly against the melted sconce around his wrists and he looked pointedly at Erik. "If you'd be willing to unbind me?" 

Erik's attention was drawn, but not to Charles' mouth and the words he'd uttered. His gaze was fixed on Charles' hands where they clenched and flexed in vain. His pause was a little too quiet, a little too long. "If you're finished trying to assault me, I see no reason why not."

Erik started moving closer, eyes still trained on Charles' bound wrists. He reached out, gloved hand stopping just short of touching. The sconce metal rippled and stretched upward in an arch, like a cat seeking a caress from its favored master, then flowed up across Erik's hand and resettled in a coil around his own wrist. Erik circled around to the other side and repeated the process, leaving Charles' wrists bare.

Charles’ fingers flexed, working some of the tension free, but he resisted the urge to rub them. Some instinct told him not to appear weak in front of Erik's watchful gaze. Erik wasn't stepping back either. Charles averted his eyes to look around the hall. They could very well be on the other side of the earth for all he knew. That would explain the darkness. Some long forgotten English settlement on the Asian continent, perhaps, for Charles would recognize that architecture anywhere. 

"Where are we?" he asked before turning to find Erik watching him, just as startlingly close as he was before.

"Does that matter?" When Charles gave him a sour look in response, Erik's mouth curled into a faint smile. It was, bizarrely, almost _shy_ , and it was the change that made Charles realize that Erik had been eerily deadpan up until that moment. 

"We're underground. It's quite stable here, if a bit cold, but you'll be well taken care of. Curious place, this. The result of a well-to-do, somewhat eccentric man who was a bit of a recluse, as far as the records show." Erik gave Charles a pointed, if fond, look. "Sank a fortune into this house, but somewhere along the line his architect failed to take into account the nearby geography. The owner died in the earthquake that sunk all of this below ground. Either there was no one left in his life to come looking, or he'd been paranoid enough in his eccentricity that he hid the location of his home from all of his other contacts."

"Quite a find," Charles glanced around the room again just so he could look away. Earthquakes. Somewhere along a major fault line, then. Unfortunately that left much of the world open to possibility, even if he limited himself to the Western hemisphere. Erik could no doubt see the cogs ticking in his head. For a man who wasn't a telepath, he'd always been good at reading Charles. Once he'd gathered himself and regained some composure, Charles turned back. "Where are the others?"

"Safe. Here, but not close enough that you'll be able to communicate. You don't need to worry on their account, Charles. I've made sure that all the Brotherhood members here know they're to be treated as guests, not prisoners." Erik saw the moment Charles noticed he'd said nothing about immediately releasing them. Their eyes met and it was instantly understood: Alex and Pietro were being retained as collateral, something to ensure Charles didn't try anything foolish. Erik knew that Charles was often willing to risk himself, but far more hesitant to place his students in danger.

"You bring me here with words of peace, friend, but all you show me are threats of force." Charles dipped his chin. Holding Erik's gaze and not knowing what laid behind those sharp eyes felt like one of the most difficult things Charles had ever done. "And actual force. Was there a reason you didn't simply call on me in New York?" If there was, Erik would not admit it, but all Charles could do was drive home to Erik that he suspected more than Erik was letting on. If this was all really just to show Charles his ways and ask Charles to agree with him, then Erik really was mad. Charles had to see the others, he had to make sure they were alright, but he would have to wait. If Erik would not be swayed now, he would have to find some other way. 

A spark of anger flared in Erik's eyes. He crossed his arms with a look of displeasure. "We have very different ideas of what constitutes a show of force, Charles," he ground out. "If I wanted you to be afraid, you would be. And you know very well why I didn't call on you at your home. I think you've made it clear you think I belong in a cage, even if you declined the opportunity to put me in one last time for fear of what my jailors would do to me. I am _never_ running that risk again." 

Charles' mouth thinned with anger, anger he knew was spiked with no small amount of fear. He could honestly not say what he would have done in the end if Erik had shown up at his doorstep asking for Charles' understanding. Understanding that he was going to continue his ways of agitation and very real violence. If Erik had come to him asking forgiveness, however...

"Well I can tell you one thing. I would have at least offered you a cup of tea," Charles deliberately kept his tone mild to subdue Erik's reaction. He would have heard Erik out. He knew that much. 

Erik didn't respond. The silence stretched out between the two men, and Charles gradually realized that Erik was looking at him without seeing him. His eyes were focused on something else, something behind him or perhaps _through_ him, or a distant memory. The rise and fall of his chest behind the armor was too rapid.

When his focus snapped back to the present, Charles got a glimpse of rage and, strangely, an equal measure of fear. "You would have had me incapacitated, then turned me over, or kept me imprisoned yourself. I will never allow it again, Charles."

Charles was thrown. His back snapped straight, pressing back into the chair. "Erik - " Charles stopped. He'd been about to say that what 'Magneto' had done to get himself locked up had been his own actions. Except it hadn't been. He _acted_ the part of radical activist enough for the public to fear him, yes, but he hadn't killed Kennedy. But neither had Charles ever deliberately tried to imprison him. In truth Charles had seriously considered looking for Magneto after the devastating summer of 1974, but after that Erik had kept the magnitude of the Brotherhood's power under the radar and Charles had publicly spoken out against them instead. "You sound very sure of yourself." More sure of Charles' reactions than Charles himself felt. 

"And you're not denying it. I'm not a mind reader. The best I can do is observe and predict." Erik's expression shuttered, but he didn't look away. "Maybe you wouldn't have. Your decisions aren't always consistent. You do manage to surprise me at times. But I couldn't afford to be wrong."

"You've stopped trusting me then?" Charles tried for lightness in his words even though the situation called for anything but. He couldn't help the very nagging prickle of unease the more Erik spoke, like his stunted telepathy were trying to tell him something, something very important, but he was lost at sea. He held tightly to what Erik was actually telling him. 

Through his paranoia, part of him still had faith in Charles, and Charles, whether he wanted to or not, had to cling to that. Erik said he was not a prisoner, but Charles was beginning to get a better idea just where he stood in this. 

Something about Charles' words, either the phrase itself or his attempt at a joking tone, set Erik off. 

His features twisted into a monstrous, raging visage Charles had never seen before. "You _abandoned_ me! Ten _years_ , Charles! Ten years of experiments, of a blank room with nothing in it, too bright and too cold to sleep! No sun, never leaving, never even let into another room for exercise. Ten paces from wall to wall. The only _faces_ I saw were flickers, up in the ceiling, distant through the glass. They rarely spoke, just slid food through the slot."

There was a sickening crunch from beneath Charles and a jolt; the metal of his wheelchair was warping, collapsing. "Complete silence, Charles. Quiet enough to hear your heart, your breathing. Unless they decide to pipe in noise and prevent you from sleeping, if you manage with the lights and temperature. There's no one down there to hear you if you scream, do you understand?"

"Erik, stop!" Charles' hands gripped the armrests as tight as he could, fearing it would do more than collapse - fearing it would cave in on him. If it did, he wouldn't feel it. He didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse, but he'd never wanted to be out of it so badly. The metal lurched, curling toward Erik and taking Charles with it. He felt pressure at his hips and in panic he grabbed for the source of that power, latching onto Magneto's arm. "Erik!"

Erik sucked in a breath sharply and instinctively tried to yank his arm away. Charles held on and was pulled with him. Just in time; Erik staggered backwards with Charles' added weight, not quite certain whether to catch him or pull away, and the wheelchair made a screech of protest while it bunched together and slid towards Erik. 

Erik, who watched it with wide eyes, as if someone else was manipulating the thing. Charles felt the man shudder beneath his grip, even through the armor, and the wheelchair finally stopped moving.

An arm slid around Charles’ waist in support, and then both men sank to the ground.

Charles was aware that he was trembling. He'd just latched onto the man that had nearly crushed him, but he didn't trust himself to let go. He couldn't very well crawl away. And he couldn't breathe. He gasped in lungfuls of air just to find his voice. "I know," he gasped. Though Erik had abandoned him too, dammit. Erik had abandoned him _first_. That vicious thought made him feel sick with anger, sliding right up alongside his primal fear. But he had to calm Erik. He had to calm both of them. "I know I never investigated... Not enough." 

He would have needed to find Raven to find the truth, and she was as removed to him then as she was now. 

The wheelchair lurched again, stopping when Erik closed his eyes. This close, Charles could see under the helmet enough to notice that the color had drained from Erik's face. 

"You don't know, Charles." Erik turned his attention to the crushed wheelchair, studying it from a distance. "You can't possibly understand without living it. Both times. You were in my head once, but you can't have gone very deep, or you might have known better."

Charles shuddered. He wanted so badly to pull away, but Erik was his only lifeline. "I remember the first time," Charles shook his head, ice creeping into his veins. But it was true, he hadn't let himself experience what Erik went through, only enough to see that Erik had gone through it. The trick to hiding anything from a telepath, although he hadn't known it at the time, was that they will usually skim over extreme pain. But Erik had been blank in 1973, days after they had broken him out. Numb, like being on autopilot, Charles remembered thinking when he finally had been able to read Erik. And then so full of rage. Lying there on the grass after Raven had taken his helmet, Charles had felt both. But his stay in Erik's head hadn't lasted long. And then Erik was gone again. Charles finally forced his breathing even. He couldn't stop trembling, and he knew he was nowhere near the calm he pretended to be. He needed to get away. "Let me go." Even though there was nowhere to go. And Charles could barely make his own fingers break their grip on Erik's arms. 

Erik let go of Charles' waist and began gently trying to pry Charles' hands away from his arm. "...I don't think it counts as me letting go of you if you cling to me," he noted. His hand finally stilled atop on of Charles' own. Guilt was radiating off of him now, joining the rage and fear... and something else. He was looking at Charles' hands a little too closely. "It will be easier to... fix your chair if I have my arm back. Not impossible, but easier."

Charles finally managed it, propping one arm behind himself and sliding off Erik. He felt a little ridiculous to be sitting on the ground like that, but there was nothing else for it. The thought of Magneto standing over him, _looming_ over him, was not pleasant, but he would survive it.

"Tell me you won't do that again. Or I'll have you make me a plastic one," Charles tried to take back some of the control he was sorely missing in this confrontation. 

Erik rubbed his arm where Charles had latched onto him. If he felt burned by where he'd been touched, Charles words hurt far more. "...I'll see what I can do about securing one," he finally offered. "I'd rather not accidentally hurt you again." The guilt of what had happened to Charles' back still weighed on him, even though Erik felt it had entirely been the human woman's fault.

Erik shifted into a cross-legged position and crooked his fingers. The mess that had once been a chair rose off the ground and floated towards him. He turned it over with a frown while trying to recall how it had been, what moving parts he'd have to smooth out and restore. Part of it would need replacing, as he couldn't fix the padding the way he could the frame.

Charles sat back and watched. He felt too raw to help with suggestions. He didn't really want the thing back at all, not after Erik had turned it on him. 

But it slowly came together whether Charles wanted it or not. Nuts and bolts and bars reslotted themselves with Erik's intuitive precision, testing their working movement in the air. Its wheels spun and turned like a sci-fi experiment before it was lowered back to the ground. 

Charles didn't move.

Erik's hands dropped to his lap and he stayed there, staring at upturned palms. Blank again, eerily still. This wasn't the man Charles had remembered - not when they'd gone off adventuring together, looking for other mutants, nor when they'd worked together at Charles' old family home. Erik had been quiet, but never this hunted, tense and rabid like a predator in a too-small cage, alternating between pacing and freezing. Even now, Erik was watching Charles out of the corner of his vision, an uneasy silver of ice just visible in the shadows of his helmet.

"It's not going to be as comfortable as it was, I'm afraid, but it's perfectly functional."

Charles took a deep breath and held out his hand. "C'mon then," he gritted his teeth. They'd been close just a minute ago by reflex, and now Charles had to ask for it. Which he did not like at all. But he would not attempt to crawl up the chair in front of Erik. Erik had gotten him into this mess, Erik was going to help him back up. 

Erik stared at the extended hand. For one bizarre flicker of a second, Charles could have fancied that he was shy. _Shy_ , after raging like a lunatic and nearly crushing Charles in what had been, apparently, an accident. Erik's gaze traveled up the length of Charles' arm to his face, gauging just what was wanted. How much was welcome.

When Erik finally moved, he didn't stop at merely grasping Charles' hand. His arms swept under Charles until he could bodily life him into the air.

Charles grasped his shoulders quickly, one arm circling around Erik's back for support. In a mad rush of fantasy, Charles imagined himself reaching up and snapping Erik's neck. If he did it fast enough, with all his might, he could manage it. He felt immediately sick. It was a survivalist reaction, a whim of thought. Part of him was terrified; he had no idea what Erik planned for him and he wanted out. But his gut lurched at the image all the same. 

Erik carried him to the chair, and with one arm under his back and one under his knees, Erik let him down. Charles breathed a short sigh of relief. 

The sound bought him a sharp look from Erik. One that quickly trailed into hurt before skittering away back behind a blank, impassive face. "I have no desire to hurt you, whatever else you think of me," he snapped. "I have to wonder what you thought I was going to do, if not help you back into your chair. Stick you in a cell? Humiliate you? Torture you?"

Charles glared up at Erik. He could feel the tension between them like a weight on his shoulders, inside his very chest, almost as if he'd regained some low level of empathy. But he was projecting, imagining his own emotions reflected back from Erik... although he might not have been too far off the mark. Charles wasn't going to take the bait on this one. Their confrontation would only spiral back in on itself.

"Where is everyone else, Erik?" Charles allowed some of the venom to seep out of his stare.

"In a different wing of the mansion." Erik straightened and took a step back to put some distance between them. Charles hadn't accepted his unspoken apology, had all but tossed it back in his face with accusations of ill intent. To say that Erik was feeling put out was putting it lightly. "I had thought it best to talk here, before things got so thoroughly derailed. No chance of being overheard or interrupted."

Charles gave a short nod. "I need to see Alex and Pietro." He hoped that making it a demand would have some sway on Erik's earlier decision. He set his jaw and fixed his eyes to Erik's again. There was a certain softness to him now, eyes a ring of grey in the low light. It calmed Charles. He could feel the stillness in the great room again. Silence was different when he knew that had there been others there, he still wouldn't be able to feel their minds.

But tension began to fill the air between the two men again. Charles couldn't see any notable change, but he could feel it around them while Erik contemplated his demand. "...and so this is how it is? I'd thought such manipulation to be beneath you, taking advantage to get what you want."

Charles' brows furrowed.

Erik crossed his arms again - closed off and stubborn, back on the defensive. "If this is the game you're wanting to play, then you've going to have to use more leverage than mere emotions. You want to see our other guests, doubtless not only because you're not accepting my word that they're unharmed and well-treated, but because you want to see the rest of the house and start formulating plans. Because if you don't trust my word in one matter, you're not going to trust me when I've promised I will let you go after a certain length of time. As I have no reason to trust your intentions as innocent now, what are you going to bargain with? Why should I give in to your demands?"

Charles barked out a laugh in disbelief. He could feel the edge of hysteria slip into it. "If you feel enough guilt that I could possibly manipulate you with it, then maybe you should stop doing things that make you feel guilty," he spat. "You _kidnapped_ me, Erik. Of _course_ I don't trust your word! And yes! I want to see them and I damn well want to know where I am. That is the _least_ you could do." Charles was beginning a rage. "Don't bullshit me. I am not your guest here." 

Whatever Charles was expecting, it wasn't the slow spread of a smile, predatory and sly. Erik's hands dropped back to his sides and then he was getting close, _too_ close, forcing Charles to look up to keep eye contact and, for all Charles could see, _reveling_ in the vulnerability that implied. "You really didn't look very far in my mind, did you?" he murmured, amusement and some other subtle, almost-indiscernible emotion coloring his tone.

Charles felt his breath catch. His heart might have stopped beating. There was a certain kind of heat in Erik's gaze, but one he never expected to see in a circumstance like this. Charles felt his blood run cold. He couldn't be sure whether the color in his cheeks drained or reddened, but he could feel every molecule in his body freeze. "Erik..." he said, soft and warning. 

Erik sunk down onto one knee finally, putting them on an equal level. He didn't retreat; if anything, he looked more intrigued, although his grin tempered itself into an amused half-smile. Charles no longer looked threatening - he looked _tempting_ , vulnerable in a way Erik found difficult to resist. "What? Stop looking at you, now? Stop finding your fearful attempts at threatening me endearing? You aren't frightening, Charles. Not right now, not as you are. You have much to bargain with, but false scare tactics aren't very effective."

Only some of the cold in Charles' bones eased. What he wouldn't give to feel Erik's mind, to know what he was thinking, to know what planned for Charles.... To not feel so out of his depth. "I suppose I'm supposed to ask you what it is I do have to bargain with, then?" Charles raised his brows, feeling nerves make his gut coil tight. "You said you wanted my trust. To change my mind on your methods?" he offered, deliberately avoiding other offers that he could put on the table because if that was what Erik was alluding to, then...well, Charles had not considered that. He had not had the time to consider much at all. 

Erik's smile slowly faded, turning melancholy at the end before he regarded Charles with a certain amount of seriousness. "I want to show you what you aren't seeing. That I'm not who, or what, you think I am, whatever conclusion you've arrived at. I'd like to show you what we're working on, and also... things in the past. But as you are right now, I don't know if I can trust you on the field or in my head."

Charles' pulse steadied somewhat. "Then you'll just have to start proving that I can trust you as well, won't you?" Charles said with more conviction. "I don't believe in finality, Erik. I don't think it impossible that we could trust one another again." Charles wasn't sure whether that was a good thing to tell Erik at this juncture, but he did mean it. Whether he wanted to trust Erik again....back in Westchester, when Erik was gone, off being Magneto, Charles had absolutely wanted to. But he had imagined this the other way around, himself imploring Erik to come back to him and the school. Now that Charles was here, he found it very difficult to want to trust this man again. 

Erik licked his lips. He looked nothing more than like a wild creature stumbled upon in the wood, curious and wanting to get closer, but fearing the harm that might bring. Skittish. He leaned in closer only to pull back at the last second. "Let's not start again in terms of bargaining and leverage, then. Don't demand things, just ask, and I'll do the same with you. Does that sound agreeable?"

"Yes," Charles sighed in relief. "Yes, that does." He knew this wouldn't put an end to their bargaining, not completely, but it was a step in the right direction. "I will ask to see them again, you know." Charles had to drive that point home even if he was beginning to understand that Erik wasn't going to allow it now. "And…seeing as how they are even less likely to trust you than I am, I would like you to let them know that I am alright. Tell them....tell them I'm ok and that I'm not stuck at the top of the stairs again. They'll know it came from me." Charles couldn't help the upward turn of his mouth, remembering particular antics at the mansion. 

"Alright." Erik looked to be on the verge of saying something else, but changed his mind at the last moment. "It's been a trying day. We'll give them time to settle into their new quarters, and we'll visit them... tomorrow. In the meantime, I should show you around this wing, so you know where to find everything. None of the Brotherhood come here, so if you need something and cannot find it yourself, you'll have to have me assist you."

Charles nodded coolly. Isolation, then, until Erik felt he was trustworthy enough to bring out. Charles didn't like the sound of that, not in the least because he and Erik, when left alone lately, had a tendency to argue in circles. Progress would be made when new variables were introduced, but Charles wasn't going to point that out just yet.

This must have been one of Magneto's main bases of operation, if not _the_ main base. Charles had to admit, depending on its location of course, if they really were underground and forgotten, it was perfect. Even location aside, now that Erik apparently had another teleporter. That dark haired woman who had brought them here... Charles again wished he'd had his powers. She'd barely said a thing though there had barely been time anyway. Now that Erik's first band of mutants were gone, Charles had very little idea who he was working with or how he'd managed to find other mutants. Perhaps Magneto had placed an ad in the paper. 

"You'll be here often then?" Charles felt that was a relatively safe question. 

"Very. When I don't have meetings to give instructions or training, I'm usually here, or nearby above ground. One of the unfortunate side effects of becoming recognizable." Erik grimaced, and it wasn't for show. His release from prison had given him more freedom, but only slightly. There were too many places where he'd be noticed, too many places where someone would attempt to detain him and try to trade him to other groups in exchange for favors. "I can't imagine you'll want to stay down here in the dark all the time, so you're welcome to join me when I go up to the surface."

Charles looked up at him in surprise. "Yes, I would like that." And not just because the landscape would tell him a lot more about their location than this underground mansion would, although that would be a benefit. On second thought, that might be an offer he had to wait on for some time. Still, Erik sounded as though he were making an effort to make Charles more comfortable and that was a fair sight better than what he'd been doing earlier. Charles took his hands off the wheels of his chair and placed them on the arms. He made an effort to look a little more ready for this tour. "Alright then."

Erik searched Charles' face; if Charles was having trouble reading Erik without being able to skim the surface of his mind, Erik seemed to be having just as much trouble predicting what to do with Charles. "Would you prefer to... follow me, or do you want me to push you while showing you around? I'm guessing you don't want me to simply manipulate your chair given... recent events."

Charles winced. "Yes, best not that. But I don't mind if you push." There was no pretending Erik wasn't leading him around anyway, and Charles would rather not have to exert himself trying to keep pace with him just to feel otherwise. It was interesting how...sensitive Erik was behaving. Charles suspected he'd been right, Erik felt guilty. Whether that was more because his actions had been involuntary or because they had nearly hurt Charles would remain to be seen. 

Erik gave one short, curt nod and rose to his feet. He moved around Charles slowly before grabbing onto the chair's handles as if he was worried that sudden movements might startle Charles and start them fighting all over again. "The former owner modeled the house partially off Victorian designs, so I'm afraid there are a lot of rooms just for the sake of having rooms, and a lot of very narrow hallways and stairwells. We're in the north wing's main foyer. The spiral staircase that you see in the corner leads up to a second floor that, for the moment, is mostly smaller rooms that were used for storage or were bedrooms intended for the household's servants."

Erik began walking, pushing Charles along in front of him. The next set of doors opened up onto another chamber that was evidently meant for socializing. A few pieces of furniture had been cleaned, while the rest had been pushed against one wall and out of the way. Two other doorways could be seen - one that led off to a hallway, and another that led into an enormous library. 

Charles' eyes lingered on it as they passed. He could see wooden catwalks that led to at least three stories of shelves, desks, maps, bins and trinkets, much of it piled here and there, but not much left on the floor. The books, miraculously, still filled the shelves. It struck him that someone might have put them back. He glanced up at Erik out of the corner of his eye and was immediately caught doing so. "I imagine you had a lot of cleaning to do. The idea that a place like this could have sunk underground and remained even mostly intact is...astounding."

"There was a lot to do. Large portions of the house are unusable, either from rubble or by the walls being compromised. Some rooms are either too dangerous to be in without significant reinforcement, or too cold." Erik took them into the hallway, leaning down enough that he could point out doorways as they passed them. "The door at the end leads into a dining room, which is also accessible from the foyer we started in. This next door, on the right, is a kitchen and full pantry. If you can't find something that you want, let me know and I'll add it to the lists for one of our resupplyment runs."

They passed a couple of chambers on the left and right. A few doors were open, leading into dusty rooms still strewn with debris no one had had time to clean up. One room was spacious and almost completely bare for a large portion of the floor, with machines and equipment lining one of the walls - an exercise room. "There isn't very much to see in these. Most of our time has been spent working on missions and trying to recruit, not fixing up parts of the house that aren't essential to filling Brotherhood needs. The east wing is in much better condition since many of those rooms are being utilized. I'm left alone in the north wing, for the most part."

That drew another glance from Charles. "You have this whole wing to yourself? Was that intentional? Or just for my benefit?" He realized he had no idea how long Erik had been planning to bring him here. It could very well have been years in the making, building up momentum in the back of Erik's mind until Magneto had enough resources and the right opportunity struck. As much as the thought made Charles' stomach churn, he had to admit that somewhere in the back of his own mind, he'd dreamed of doing the same. 

"It's beneficial in this case, but... no," Erik finally admitted, taking them past several more rooms and through another foyer. There were doorways in two opposite directions: one hallway to what looked like more small, personal rooms, and one that opened up into a room leading out into darkness. "I felt too uneasy around the others, and they evidently felt the same. It's worked out for the better to have space to myself. On both sides."

Charles chose not to comment on that, but it stuck like red light in his mind. He would have to spend some time with the other members of the Brotherhood to understand their inner workings, but he knew a few things already. He knew Erik was in control, he'd known that from the start and if he'd ever been in doubt this little mission of theirs cemented it. Magneto was the one giving orders. How they felt about him and how he felt about them was another matter. 

"Think you can stand to live with me?" Charles tried for a smile. He wasn't sure if it worked. "I'm full of bad habits, you'll remember. Probably gained a few more, even." He should have been surprised that Erik planned to keep him here when he couldn't stand anyone else, but... Charles' thoughts flashed back to the heat in Erik's gaze earlier. He flashed back to those first few nights he'd known Erik, warm days on the road and that even warmer gaze over a set of ivory chess pieces. 

"I think the question is going to be more whether you can stand to live with me," Erik countered, turning them to the left. "You haven't been very pleased with the idea thus far, and I've had a bit more time to pick up bad habits than you, considering I've had to relearn how to be around people."

Erik paused and gestured, indicating one closed door, an open one on the left, and another open door at the end of the hall. "This room is mine. The bathroom is the next room down, and yours is the one at the end. I confess that I'm not entirely certain what sort of accommodations you might be needing. You'll have to tell me what handholds would be useful, and where, or if the height of something needs adjusting."

Charles nodded. That was a necessity, but one Erik shouldn't have difficulty with, given enough metal. 

"How are you getting electricity down here? Even if the cables survived, or you ran new lines...you couldn't possibly be sure someone wouldn't notice." The lamps may have been decades old, but they were functional and in fact the only thing keeping the whole building from complete darkness. Even if they did have a tendency to flicker. "And water? The pipes couldn't have survived."

Erik actually smiled at the question and preened a bit. "A collaborative effort. One of our members, Rictor, was able to set up a geothermal shaft for the purposes of heating, and which also powers a small generator. The energy output is a bit limited, but enough to keep things stable for our needs. He and I worked together to sink a well shaft. It's still a bit tricky at times, unfortunately. If you run into problems with the plumbing, you might have to ask for my assistance."

"Which brings us to another topic." Erik pushed Charles to the end of the hall, into what was going to be Charles' bedroom. In comparison to the others, it had been well-cleaned. It resembled portions of Charles' home, in fact, but for the lack of amenities designed to assist someone with his condition. Erik directed Charles' attention to several ropes dangling against the wall. "These are part of the house's original call system. If you need something, all you have to do is pull on one of these. The furthest on the left connects to my room, but in the event that I'm not there, one of these should reach me if I'm still in this wing."

Charles wondered whether he would be left to fend for himself if Erik ever had to leave unexpectedly, or if he would finally cave and allow Charles the company of others. He deliberately set that thought aside and looked around the room. Erik had estimated a few of his needs, or maybe it had just been happenstance that the bed frame had a good spot to grip and the tables weren't too high. He wouldn't need the sitting chair, and the shelves were mostly empty, but once it would have been a resplendent room indeed. Charles took hold of the wheels and drew himself closer to the window, a gilded thing reaching high to the ceiling and coiled with art deco designs, but there was nothing to be seen beyond. There might have been a whole cavern outside or there might be dirt and rock ten inches from the glass for all Charles could see, either would have been just as black. 

When Charles turned back, he found Erik watching. He struggled to find something to say, but after all this, what could he? A 'thank you' might have been welcome, and though Charles did appreciate the effort Erik was going to in making him comfortable, it still would not have been sincere. "I don't suppose you still have a chess set?" he asked instead, trying to remain civil. 

Relief flooded Erik's features, then vanished just as quickly. Evidently he'd been preparing for more rebuke, either about the room's shortcomings, Charles' dependence on Erik's assistance, or the fact that he was even a 'guest' here at all. "I do, but it's back in the library. Not much used, I'm afraid. Most of the Brotherhood aren't very interested in strategy games."

Erik paused to glance at an analog clock hanging upon the bedroom wall, and it was then that Charles noticed another oddity: aside from the electric lighting, he'd not seen any modern electrical gadgets or appliances on their tour. "We could stop by the kitchen on the way, if you're hungry. I have no idea of when you last ate, but I'd imagine it's been several hours."

"Yes, that would be appreciated," Charles nodded. 

Another oddity, the clock on the wall read the same time as when they had left. Unless Erik had deliberately set it to Pacific Time for his benefit, or detriment, Charles wondered whether they were still on the west coast. 

Charles wheeled himself back to Erik with one more glance around the room. It was as comfortable as he could be in a situation like this. He allowed Erik to take hold of the handles and they were moving again.

Charles couldn't help but wonder what else they kept here, and how many of the Brotherhood there were. He had gathered that their numbers were at least a handful, but he could not be certain. Even with the benefit of Cerebro, students at his school had come and gone in the four years since its reopening. Those who had stayed were the ones that had nowhere else to go, the ones who were desperate. He felt his chest tighten at the thought of them finding out what had happened, of Hank, who would be distraught over letting just the three of them go and then overwhelmed with keeping the household together. But mostly he thought of young Scott, having his only family abruptly taken away. 

The kitchen was definitely going to need some improvements to make things more accessible. From the supplies Charles could spot, Erik seemed to not have changed over the years - little skill or patience for cooking, only stocking easy staples. Food for necessary nutrition and survival, but not for meals meant for someone who cared overmuch about variety or what they were eating. Erik busied himself with assembling sandwiches for the two of them, and the sight was absurd in and of itself. The man who led the Brotherhood and was wanted as a terrorist wasn't the sort one naturally pictured in such a domestic setting.

Charles watched with his chin in his palm. "Try not to get mayo on your cape." He had no idea how he could be utterly terrified of Erik one minute and then fall into an almost... easy companionship with him the next. Except this wasn't an easy companionship. The weight in Charles' chest and the churning of his gut told him that, but it was... something he didn't exactly know how to handle. What they had before and where they were now threw everything off, and that was probably why he was defaulting to this. Trying to keep the peace where he could. 

"Such criticism from someone who used to have us running around in bright yellow jumpsuits, when not walking around dressed like a cross between a stuffy Oxford professor and a bar hopper." Erik glanced at Charles out of the corner of his eye, putting the finished plates on a metal tray and filling two glasses with water. "Appearances send messages, particularly if dramatic. People are put off-balance and pay more attention, or are easier to intimidate. Dramatic means unpredictable, in many people's minds."

"Hmm," Charles drew his mouth into a line, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Erik. He'd been about to make some flippant comment regarding exactly what Erik used to think of his 'stuffy Oxford clothing', or his 'bar hopper' look, but thought the better of it. Treading those waters would certainly not clear the air between them. Charles took the tray Erik offered and picked up his sandwich. "Is that a tactic for the public or for the rest of the Brotherhood?" Charles asked before taking a bite. 

Erik raised an eyebrow. When Charles didn't offer a biting comment in response, a small grin returned to his face. "Both, really." The tray with his own food levitated beside him and Erik began pushing Charles towards the library. "It serves my purposes. No one attempts to usurp control of the Brotherhood, they get a semi-mythical symbol to rally behind, and I've found that a number of opponents are willing to back down without a struggle if they think putting up a fight will get them targeted with lethal intent. ”βριμθυμε, φρασπι, πολισσε, χαλκοκορυστ, ντιβοισι τραννε, δικαιοττων γ φωτν."

It was Charles' turn to raise an eyebrow. "Was that Greek?" He glanced back at a particularly smug Erik before they reached the library. Charles couldn't help taking a better look this time. It was impressive, even in its state of decay. At one point it had probably been one of the most decorated rooms in the house with arched ceilings and a more elaborate continuation of the popular deco theme. A set of electric chandeliers hung from the gold encrusted ceiling, chipping and cracked in places. While Charles had noticed the place had been cleaned at first glance, he now saw better that it was only partially finished. Much of the debris had been moved into the corners, clearing enough space for the center of the room. Most of the chairs and tables had been turned upright, but not all the books had made it back on the shelves.

A few stacks of them dotted the tables here and there, not yet reshelved after being referenced. The center table was conspicuously clear of anything on the surface and also well dusted - as if materials that had covered the table had only recently been removed. Erik wheeled Charles up to the table and let his tray drift down to rest on the surface while he went to fetch the chessboard that was sitting, neglected, in a corner. "I remember you having quite the thing for books, though I don't recall your tastes beyond your favorite. If it's still your favorite, there is a copy of The Once and Future King in the collection."

"Power and justice and human nature... Have you read it?" Charles asked, feeling the corner of his mouth twitch wondering how poetic it would be if Erik did one day. He watched as Erik moved, some of the old grace back in his step, and was again a little startled at Erik's... sentiment. Even when he shouldn't be. All these little comforts were Erik's way of making Charles, well, _comfortable_ with the way he'd been forced here. And Charles hadn't yet decided whether any good could come of it or not, the way Erik seemed to hope it would. 

"I have. I'm surprised, in fact, that you like it as well as you do, given the plot." Erik returned and seated himself opposite Charles to begin setting up the board. He shot Charles a wry smile and assigned himself the black. "Envisioning war as being justified if it prevents another from going to war. A just and safe society only being possible once Arthur allows himself to enforce right using might. The blind tolerance of jealous, toxic, intolerant elements in the society, which are then allowed to persist, fester, and plan until they bring down the kingdom and make justice impossible again."

"Intolerance and jealousy festering _because_ of the way right was enforced," Charles added pointedly. "You reference Merlin's warning early on, instilling in Arthur when he was a boy that the only justifiable reason for going to war is to prevent another from going to war." Charles picked his first piece, a pawn, but he was watching Erik instead. "Arthur's hopes and dreams for his kingdom were not wrong, but his need for control, even in the direction he believed to be good, eventually did him in."

"I think you're interpreting what you wish to be true, and not what was actually on the page. Arthur's simplicity, his earnestness, his incapacity to do what needs to be done, taints his rule and the balance of justice in his kingdom. He forgives too easily, and lets the affair between his wife and Lancelot continue, sowing the seed for later discord. His affair with Morgause gives him a bastard son that he _abandons_ to die, rather than accepting his responsibility, proving his understanding of justice to be shallow and only truly relevant when used to reinforce a particular status quo." Erik raised an eyebrow and moved a pawn of his own. "Arthur ends the story regretful of all the times he did not follow through with his ideals, and did not use force when it was necessary for the greater good. His kingdom stagnates and brings about his downfall."

Charles considered Erik and felt his mouth tighten. "He does not end where he should have, we can agree on that. But those kings who came before him had no trouble ruling with the might you advocate, and look where it got them. Arthur tried to rule otherwise and he is the one remembered in legend, even if he failed." Charles swallowed, concentrating on the battleground of black and white between them that had nothing at all to do with chess. "Perhaps it is human nature. _All_ human nature."

"Nothing ever works in perfect extremes. The kings before him failed by overusing force. Arthur failed by going too far in the other direction, falling to corruption, and failing to correct it." A few more moves, and Erik took the first piece off the board - a white pawn. "I'm hardly going to laud Arthur merely for failing spectacularly enough to get his name remembered. There are a great many names that history should have swallowed, yet they have gained a measure of immortality by their deeds, no matter how horrifying or destructive."

Charles smiled bitterly. "Well, if the only thing we can agree on is that neither philosophy should be taken too far in the extreme, then so be it." 

His attention fell back to the pieces between them and they played quietly for a few moves. Charles had believed Erik could temper himself once. He'd seen that in him when they'd trained together. He couldn't help but wonder if he would find that had changed since. But Erik came to him, or rather brought him to Erik. Charles hoped that counted for something. 

Erik spent more time watching Charles than he did the chess board. There was a small measure of incredulity in his expression, as if he couldn't quite believe Charles was actually there. Or perhaps he couldn't believe that Charles had calmed, that they were talking and playing together in a way vaguely reminiscent of old times. He refused to look away when Charles caught him staring and gave him a questioning look. "You seem to think we agree on nothing. Simply telling you that I don't believe that's true isn't going to be very convincing, so I'd like to hear what you think my position is."

Charles shook his head. "Stating your position is one thing, even _me_ trying to state your position is one thing, we could discuss our motivations and misconceptions and intentions all night, but what you do in practice is another thing entirely." His hand hesitated over the next move. "I'll admit you've managed to to lessen collateral damage since the summer of '74, but I keep wondering when you'll feel the need to demonstrate your power like that again."

"People in positions of power were kidnapping mutants, torturing and experimenting on them until they died and then continuing to fiddle with their corpses, and this wasn't seen as a matter of concern. No one questioned known mutants disappearing under suspicious circumstances because they weren't seen as full people, not anyone to care about if they happened to come to harm. Out of all of this, Trask and other scientists found a way to remotely scan for the X gene to allow for identification and discriminatory targeting of mutants." 

Erik contemplated Charles move, and moved to counter it. "I'm very familiar with that tune. I've seen how it ends before, if a strong message isn't sent that such things are unacceptable. Germany wasn't the first to be infected with this ideology and won't be the last, or are you going to overlook things like Atascadero State Hospital? The sterilizations of people considered mentally ill among the Scandinavian countries? Similar laws encouraging institutionalization and sterilization in Japan, where the idea of a genetic predisposition towards crime or disturbing the peace was enough to land you in the crosshairs? Encouraging these people to view mutants as helpless won't encourage them to stop pursuing eugenics, institutionalization, criminalization, or full-out genocide."

"What I meant," Charles began with a weight in his chest, "was that you must not mistake those you are fighting against with those you are not. I understand that '74 was a moment of rage, but however justified, you left a lot of people in your wake with a reason to hate you now when they had none before. If you ever want that cycle of oppression and revolution to end, you must sway them to your side. Willingly." 

Charles moved a piece by rote more than intent. It was as though the path were already laid out for them. They were going through the motions passed down to them by history, by every rivalry that should have been able to find compromise but for reason after reason held onto the hurt between them. 

"Not everything can parallel the Civil Rights Movement in the United States, Charles," Erik chided quietly. "Ireland tried to emulate that, and was met with violence until the IRA was founded. Nonviolent protests resulted in things like Bloody Sunday. King was shot dead while arguing for non-violent resistance, while the Black Power Movement has eclipsed his stances. The Gay Liberation movement had a turning point not with the homophile movement peacefully insisting that they were exactly the same as conservative heterosexuals, but when the Stonewall Riots erupted. It's regrettable, but it's the nature of bigoted majority groups in power to not listen and graciously agree to stop oppressing their targeted minorities if simply asked repetitively and politely."

"I never said it was easy. Nor that there would be no bloodshed. But every move you make must be scalpel sharp or you risk it becoming the status quo. King brought together a community. He gave people hope when they had so little. I would not say his influence has been eclipsed by any measure of the word, even after death." Charles gave a short sigh. "But let us turn back to our own circumstances. We are divided. Mutants will continue to enter this world and apart from those who have obvious differences, they have little way of finding one another. I know your Brotherhood consists of only a handful. I would like to build a community for ourselves. As a first step I consider this most important."

"I would agree, but there's also a certain amount of danger in grouping too many together in a small place without a means to defend the community. It makes a very tempting target for extremists." Charles took Erik's rook and he tsked in annoyance. "There's also the problem of finding other mutants in order to be able to offer them someplace safe, someplace peaceful where they won't have to worry or be indoctrinated with ideas that they are subhuman monsters, freaks of nature. You hold a solution to this particular problem, which is one of several reasons I wanted to talk to you, but I know you won't agree to help me with this until you are convinced that I'm not going to use it for anything nefarious."

"True enough." Charles let the corners of his mouth lift even though he didn't feel the humor. ”Anonymity has been the strongest resource I've had to offer my students to maintain safety and community at the same time. Even so, many have chosen to go it alone in the end. They've built lives in the world already and though the offer of companionship is nearly always a draw, hiding together alone can take its toll." Charles knew he was sharing a weakness, but...he also felt within himself that deep yearning to trust Erik. "If we could build that community large enough, I would like to see a day when we didn't have to hide. It will take time. Much time and much effort, but it must be a positive effort if we hope to find peace in the end." 

Erik's hand paused in the middle of his next move. His features softened, and it was another reminder of how things had been between them: no matter how angry and abrasive Erik seemed to get with others, no matter how upset he got with Charles, the telepath fit into a chink in his armor. "I'd like to build such a community with you, Charles. You can only house so many in that mansion, and it can only be kept anonymous for so long after the number of residents increases."

His gaze drifted back down to the board between them. "Perhaps, if the nations refuse to give us basic rights equal to humanity's, we could eventually negotiate territory to form our own."

Charles felt that flicker of hope come back to life in his chest. "That could very well be an option, but it would not eliminate the need for contact between mutants and the rest of the world." Not when mutants were so often born to humans, and though Charles did not have proof to back his theory, the nature of genetics strongly indicated that a human could be born from two parents with a genetic mutation. 

Finally, Charles watched Erik and didn't look away. He felt that old, familiar pull to this man, rekindled by the strength of Erik's own longing. He could almost imagine he was feeling Erik's mind. Charles knew he could draw Erik with his ideals in the same way that Erik drew him with his own. For them to meet along the course of it, however shakily in sync, almost demanded that Charles' internal compass follow suite. 

"I wouldn't suggest a complete secession from the world at large. Isolationism has never born positive consequences in the end, no matter how many times it's been tried or whether it was motivated by good intentions, rather than pure xenophobia. Such societies stagnate and grow weak and corrupt, and then there's the additional issue that what's unknown will always be the most feared."

Erik felt Charles' eyes on him and finally raised his own gaze to meet him. Erik wanted them to be on the same side, clearly, but there was something else underneath all the political philosophizing, something subtle embroidered on the edges of the white flag he'd tried to raise between them.

Charles suspected he saw what it was. He could not in truth say he didn't feel its pull himself. He just...hadn't expected to see it again. Not with everything that had happened.... He held Erik's gaze for as long as he could before he had to pull away. There was heat in his cheeks when he looked back down at the board. 

Most of Charles' pieces were gone, and this didn't surprise him. Erik had him cornered. He knew the outcome of this match already. It was only a matter of waiting a few more turns and watching his pieces go down. But life was not chess, Charles reminded himself, and moved his king to defend its queen. 

They finished the match in silence. Erik won, as Charles had foreseen, though not before Charles led him in a frustrating chase across the board that had Erik smiling wryly at the end. 

"I'd ask if you fancied another game, but I'm afraid we should probably see to altering your quarters before it gets too late in the evening." Erik didn't need to clarify what he meant; without accommodations, Charles would be dependent on him in order to take care of several of his needs. Erik might not have minded, but he knew Charles well enough to know that he would find such a dependency embarrassing and, perhaps, a breach of privacy. "If you'll give me a moment to fetch a few supplies, I can meet you back at your room and make whatever you require."

Charles nodded, feeling like he was resurfacing in the world again. Alex and Pietro were waiting not far away. He hoped they would be alright for the night, that they would not fear for his safety, and that the message he had asked Erik to pass on would console them until tomorrow. 

"Alright." Charles pulled back from the table while Erik cleared the board. He would have liked to take a tour throughout the house without Erik at his side, but he knew just how likely that was to happen. They went to the door together before parting ways and Charles felt almost completely off balance navigating this gilded cage by himself. It was not a sense of freedom. 

But he managed to find his way back to his room without trouble, passing the closed door of Erik's on the way. And the bathroom. He wondered if they were meant to share a bathroom. He lingered there momentarily before moving on to his own. 

Erik was gone for a goodly amount of time. It was only when Charles was alone that the house felt eerie, almost oppressive. There was a subtle chill in the air, even with heat coming steadily out of the vents. Everything was quiet, without the creaks and groans a house like this would normally have, as there was no wind to exert pressure on its frame. The view out of the windows was utter blackness. Everything had an air of unreality to it, like nothing outside of the wood paneled walls and small halo of electric lights existed.

Erik's footsteps, in comparison, sounded unusually loud when he finally returned, as did the rap of his knuckles on the doorframe. "I passed along your message. Alex Summers wasn't too happy about it and had some explicit suggestions of what you should do to me, which I'm going to decline repeating. May I come in?"

"Good old Alex," Charles smiled. He could imagine exactly what the young man might have to say to Erik, especially Erik, out of all the Brotherhood. "Yes, come in. I'd like to put a rail here, or just a hand hold perhaps, alongside the bed." Charles wasn't sure whether he wanted to feel too comfortable, but making himself suffer for the sake of it would help neither of their purposes. 

He moved back as Erik came in. There wasn't much else in the room that needed altering. The table was low enough. The shelves were unused. If he put anything there, he would only use the bottom ones. 

Erik was already sizing up the dimensions of what would be needed. Steel bars floated in through the doorway behind him and hovered obediently. After a few moments, one piece moved in front of Erik, bending itself into an arch, both tips turning ridged like the bits of a drill. They managed to punch two neat holes into the floor; Erik knelt for a moment and laid his hands flat against the floorboards on either side for a second with a distant, focused look in his eyes. When he grabbed the curved bar a second later and tried to shake it, it refused to budge an inch.

Erik's hands slid over the metal for a few more seconds, smoothing it out and rendering the top of the bar flat enough to grip. He frowned at his handiwork, called over another piece of metal, and added a second handhold bar to the structure a little further down. "...will this be sufficient?"

Charles nodded, a little in awe in spite of himself. "Yes. Yes, that will do just fine." This way, he wouldn't have to rely on the bedposts. "That's really all I need in here. I won't be using the armchair overly much." Charles licked his lips nervously before deciding to simply plow forward. He wheeled himself around Erik and back out into the hall. "And as for the bathroom., I would say...." He hadn't realized it was so large. Charles paused once inside, rearranging his assumptions to fit a marble countertop and a spacious tile floor where there stood a bathtub and a shower, separate. "Well. A rail along the wall here," he gestured beside the toilet. "And...probably a rail and a step beside the tub." 

Charles knew his cheeks were red, but he steadfastly refused to look at Erik. 

Erik caught on to Charles discomfort and said nothing. He kept his focus on his work and away from Charles, allowing him some measure of privacy to recompose himself. Nothing about Charles' limitations was anything to be embarrassed about, and Erik was only too acutely aware of his role in damaging Charles' spine. 

If he was particularly thorough in providing handholds, including an extra one beside the bathtub, well... it was some measure of an apology for something he could never really atone for. The damage was done. The best Erik could hope for was gaining some forgiveness by ensuring things were convenient and comfortable during Charles’ stay. 

As thorough as he was, Erik was quicker and more efficient than any construction crew Charles had ever seen. Within no time the adjustments he had asked for were finished. 

Erik stepped back for one last inspection and Charles nodded for him. "That'll do." He resisted the urge to ask whether Erik was a morning shower person or a night shower person so he could take the opposite. 

Charles didn't feel like showering. He didn't much feel like sleeping either, although he could gather that it was getting late. On his sleep schedule, anyway. He glanced at Erik. "When can I expect you in the morning?"

"My schedule tends towards the erratic," Erik said somewhat apologetically. "But given the schedule you've been on, we'll plan for 9. We'll have breakfast in the other wing."

Erik hesitated, his hand going to one pocket. "...loathe as I am to have to ask this, Charles, I think you'll understand why I am." When he retracted his hand, a bottle of serum and a capped syringe were grasped in his fingers.

Charles stilled, feeling his stomach drop again. Understand. He could _understand_ perfectly. 

"No," Charles said as calmly as he could. "If you want me to be on that during my stay here, then you'll have to do it yourself." He would not shut out his powers anymore. He had had more than enough of that as his legs had continuously reminded him today. Not even for the sake of their shaky truce. 

Erik approached slowly, looking more than a little contrite. "I want to trust that I could go to sleep and not wake up to find you inside every head in the mansion, but I can't. Not yet. Once we reach an understanding and I feel I can trust you, that I don't have to fear you seizing control of the Brotherhood members or putting me into a coma, this won't be necessary."

 _Just keep telling yourself that,_ Charles thought bitterly, but another part of him was thinking this through. If he could escape with his powers, then Erik would be right back to hunting him again, biding his time and waiting for Charles to provide him an opportunity. It would take some serious mental restructuring of Erik's priorities if Charles wanted to keep him away after his escape, and Charles wasn't sure he wanted to do that. Still, having his powers back would provide a reasonable measure of defense against Erik's threats. 

He allowed Erik to kneel beside him, uncapping the syringe and filling it slowly. Charles watched the pump pull back in Erik's strong grip and knew he was scowling. 

Erik was aware Charles’ displeasure would set things back, but he also knew his fears were reasonable. He would have been a fool to take one of the most powerful telepaths in the world, if not _the_ most powerful, and simply let him loose in Brotherhood headquarters. The mutants in the other wing would not be safe, even at this range, and nothing but the serum would assuredly prevent Charles from hurting him should he remove his helmet and Charles decide that the bonds of past friendship were not enough to dissuade him.

Charles didn't fight when Erik took his arm, or when he tied a band around it, or when the needle finally sank into his skin.

Charles felt his eyelids droop as he concentrated on the feeling. It was a familiar pressure. A familiar pain. But one he had hoped to be rid of for so long. Erik kept his eyes down, focused on his task until the plunger pressed closed. He drew the needle out and untied the knot. Charles' arm felt heavy, but there were no side effects other than that. Other than the continued silence in his head. He looked up at Erik, close once again, and found his eyes clear and drawn. 

"Is that all?" Charles asked, unwilling to let this turn into a 'moment' for Erik.

Erik nodded and stood, backing out of Charles' personal space. "I'll let you get settled. If you need anything, you can ring." Erik turned to leave, paused in the doorway, and after a glance backwards thought better of whatever else he'd been about to say. He turned right and disappeared down the hallway, footsteps retreating into the distance.

Charles sat for a long moment. He let his head fill with silence until he could think again. He moved his chair back into the hall and paused. His bedroom was on one side, Erik's on the other. Erik had not turned into it, but Charles could be sure that even if he'd left for the East wing again, his senses would be finely attuned to the metal Charles carried with him. 

The empty hall called to him, but there would be no exploring tonight. Not if he didn't want Erik to come straight back. A plastic chair, Charles thought as he turned back to his room, would ease his paranoia. 

And Erik had offered. 

He closed the door behind him and considered the room again. It felt different when he was alone. Warm hues decorated most of the furnishings, royal reds and violets offset with more traditional beige and brown in half swirling, half geometric designs. 

The leadlight windows drew his eye again. It was a little unsettling, having such a prominent space for light to shine through when there was only blackness behind them. Anything could be out there, watching, and he would never know. 

Charles resolutely put the thought out of his mind and, to the best of his ability, readied for bed. He had no other clothes, so he simply removed his belt and shoes and, with a bit of effort, climbed up onto the bed. It was plush and comfortable, and Charles hated it. 

For a long time he laid awake, staring at the designs on the ceiling, thinking of Pietro taunting their kidnappers and Alex throwing rages and insults, thinking of Hank back at the school, of the children who had nowhere else to go, and of people who depended on him to return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit us on tumblr, we have art!
> 
>   [die--gretchenfrage.tumblr.com](http://die--gretchenfrage.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING in this chapter for an antisemitic slur.

Charles wasn't sure if he slept at all, but he must have dozed and woke at least a few times because eventually, the clock read 7.

He tried fitfully for another half hour to find sleep, but he couldn't. Eventually, he gave up and turned on the light. The room looked exactly the same as it did when he'd gone to bed, like he hadn't just spent hours on his back tossing and turning. There was no discerning night and day here. 

With a measure of determination and a fuzziness in his head, Charles climbed back to his chair, thankful for the new handholds on the way down. He sat for a moment, focusing, trying to reach out with his mind, but just like he had all night, he felt nothing. Erik was going to keep the serum dosage strong enough to avoid close calls, no doubt. Charles could only wish his brain would build up the tolerance his legs had. 

He took his shoes and his belt, wanting to be ready for whatever the day brought when it was time, and opened the door. Not to his surprise, the hall was empty. And silent. The lights were still on, however, so he moved to the bathroom and found it just as empty. He closed the door behind himself and, even though it would do no good should Erik really want to get inside, locked the door. 

Charles felt odd, alone in such a large and luxurious bath. Even though it had been cleaned up a far sight better than the parts of the house he'd seen so far, it still didn't seem right, not even when the water was up to his shoulders and he'd found shampoo and lotion and towels in the nearby stand. He did appreciate being clean though, and the step platform enabled him to move from the bath to it and dry off before getting back in the chair again. 

Once he was finished, Charles was left with only a few options. He could either go down to the kitchen, find some coffee - very tempting - and wait for Erik. Or he could explore the boundaries of his prison. Erik was likely asleep or out, as he would have no reason to loiter about Charles' door. This was his first opportunity. 

Charles took it.

Wheeling down the hall, he passed Erik's closed door, pausing only a moment to listen for sound and not daring to wait any longer. He passed what he assumed were empty drawing rooms and a small foyer, and down the next hall a set of maid's rooms, most of them still with upturned furniture, cracked walls, or closed doors. He wasn't going to find his way out in the living quarters of the wing. There was one section he was aiming for and when he found an empty dining hall, he recalled what Erik had mentioned lay on the other side. 

Everywhere Charles moved, he did so carefully, at once thankful that he did not make footsteps, yet frustrated when the extra weight of the chair caused a floorboard to creak. 

He was getting jumpy. Just as he slipped through the cracked door, he thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. After a time of pausing and waiting, even wheeling closer to glance around the corner, he found that it was nothing. 

The grand hall they'd arrived in had in fact been on the other side of the dining room, just as Erik had said. It looked much the same as it had the previous night. Dimly lit lamps glowed at its walls and the once impressive chandelier lit a warm hue throughout. 

Charles felt the back of his neck prickle. He felt like he was being watched. There were too many open doorways, the dining room he'd just come from, the hall at the top of the staircase, the door Erik had taken him through last night, and others on the opposite side. All of them were too dark to see into and again, he thought he caught the shape of something, this time above him. On the second floor, where Erik had said there were more chambers, but when Charles whirled his head, he found only more empty doorways. 

With a sigh and another prickle down his spine, he wheeled across the great chamber to the opposite wall. 

One of these doors should lead to the division between the North Wing and, depending on which way Charles was facing, any one of the others. He set his hand on the handle, noting the shine of silver and gold inlay and hoping for the best. 

Miraculously, it turned. The door opened. 

To another door. 

Charles felt his stomach sink. This door was not part of the original house. This door was made of solid steel. _Polished_ steel. 

There was only one reason a door like this would be here, and sure enough, when he reached for the handle, it didn't budge. 

Charles wheeled out and tried another door on the next corner of the room. He found the same thing. 

He was walled in, trapped even more thoroughly than he'd thought, and it came as some surprise to him to feel his heart sinking at this new revelation. If anything, at least these doors _looked_ like a cage. 

He turned back, giving up on attempting the stairs, ignoring the way he felt like a fool, and made his way back through the corridors. 

The chance of coffee drew him to the kitchen, and indeed there was some. A stove sat in the corner, and Charles located a pot to boil water and a French press and a grinder for a parcel of whole beans he found ready on the counter. He set about making himself a cup and waited for the clock to strike 9.

It was the noise from the grinder that drew Erik, at least ostensibly. When he slunk through the doorway he was narrow-eyed and shadowed; it was possible he had gotten poor sleep just as Charles had. 

"...what are you doing?" The question was bizarrely accusative, particularly as it was very obvious what Charles was currently doing. Possibly it was even obvious what Charles _had_ been doing. Erik's ability to sense individual pieces of metal at great distances had never been thoroughly tested.

Charles narrowed his own eyes back. "I'm making coffee," he deadpanned and didn't turn from his task longer than to stare warily at Erik. Erik, who was notably not wearing his helmet this morning. Charles saw for the first time how much he looked like the old Erik, now that his hair was kept a little longer, swept neatly back over his head. Charles deliberately looked away, startled by just how much he was affected by memory. "Would you like some?" he asked without any more warmth.

Charles' finger pressed down on the button to finish of the grounds. A loud, mechanical crunching filled the room, immediately followed by several metal utensils violently _leaping_ into the air and towards the doorway. Charles even felt a tug from the grinder in his hand, the metal blades within wanting to be elsewhere. 

Metal clattered to the floor and Charles turned to find Erik wide-eyed and pale, knocking aside a spatula in mid-air that hit the ground and continued to slide towards his feet.

Charles' jaw dropped. " _Shite!_ What the - " He got out of the way of several dirty spoons flying across the countertop before he felt a tug at his chair. He slid several feet across the floor before he reached out and caught the table, holding on with all his might. "Erik, stop!" The pit of his stomach lurched as though it, too, were made of metal. _No. No. Not this again._

Erik ducked back through the doorway. A few last, light implements hit the kitchen wall, bouncing off harmlessly in their attempt to reach the body on the other side. After another second or two the air lost its tension and the grinder in Charles' left hand stopped trying to escape.

Charles slumped against the table top, his heart lodged somewhere in his throat. It took a few heavy breaths to calm him down enough to think. 

That had not been intentional. Erik had been angry. He'd come in with a foul mood and he'd just about been ready to - to do what, Charles didn't know. To lash out? To snap at him? But he'd been thrown off by his own power. Was Erik getting stronger? For whatever reason, could he not control it any longer? 

Charles heard a clang and a crash and looked down. The grinder had fallen from his grip and shattered all over the floor. He couldn't bring himself to care. 

It took another minute before Erik finally reappeared in the doorway. Whatever anger he'd had had disappeared and left him looking drawn. He glanced at the pile of metal objects on the floor, the broken remains of the coffee grinder - anywhere but at Charles.

"...if you still want to accompany me to the east wing, we'll be able to get you some coffee there," he finally offered, when the silence had hung between them for too long. "Summers and Maximoff should be awake by now."

Erik knew exactly what to say to get his attention. 

Charles drew away from the table, dusting coffee grounds off himself, and tried to calm his pulse. He barely withheld a biting remark about the state of the kitchen and the state Erik had nearly put him in, but he managed to be civil for the sake of the others. 

"Then take me to them. If you would," Charles amended, remembering their bargain yesterday. 

Erik stepped back outside the room and walked in front of Charles on the way to the door to the main part of the house, leaving a comfortable amount of space in between them. He stopped Charles right before they reached the doors, giving the telepath another half-apologetic smile. "Time for another dose, I'm afraid. You'd find it more difficult to get in my head against my will, even without extra precautions, but the others don't have any such protection."

"Been training against telepaths, have you?" Charles asked, soft but with a note of tension in his voice. 

Charles sighed and held out his arm, palm up, atop the chair's armrest. He wanted to get this over with. Erik came closer and Charles watched him warily, not sure if the ill temper had completely fled. He swallowed when Erik's cool eyes swept over him, not quite regretting his provocation...but nearly. The comment had made the last traces of emotion on Erik's face disappear. The blank look that Charles remembered so well from previous times together was back - still, deceptively calm, with no hint of the rage that seemed perpetually just under the surface. 

Erik went about administering the serum like he was demonstrating the technique for a class.

"It's not foolish to train for all possibilities. I didn't enjoy being jerked around like a puppet before." The plunger depressed, and then Erik untied the band, pocketed the supplies, and got back to his feet. "Are you so used to invading others' minds without invitation that having one closed to you makes you angry?"

"Having _all minds_ closed to me makes me angry," Charles countered. "It's more than that. I _feel_ people, whether actively in their minds or not. It's like...like being...." Their eyes caught and locked together. _Like being locked up, alone,_ Charles thought to himself. He swallowed. "And I didn't like being jerked around under a half ton of rebar, either," he finished. 

"How terrible, feeling like no one is around," Erik commented flatly. "Believe me, Charles, I don't enjoy having to dampen your powers like this. You, or any mutant."

He turned and continued, confident that Charles would follow. Charles wouldn't miss the opportunity to see Pietro and Alex in a fit of pique. 

Past the first door, Charles caught sight of one of the metal doors for the second time that day. Erik barely gestured and locks and bolts began clicking back. The door swung open onto a large room, clearly the main reception hall of the house when it had been above ground.

More striking than the cracked marble and polished wood, however, was the short, solid metal fence that started only a few feet away, one further barrier sectioning off the north wing from the rest of the house. It wasn't high enough to pose much difficulty to anyone who could walk - it could only be meant as a barrier for someone in a wheelchair.

Charles' knuckles tightened on the push of his wheels. He refused to comment on it, but he knew Erik could tell he'd noticed. There was no way _not_ to notice. He imagined he could feel the weight of the serum running through his veins, seeping into his heart and out again until it finally reached his brain. 

_So many precautions. I should be flattered._ But Charles wasn't, and the thought was another dose of bitterness on his tongue. 

He followed as Erik walked, waiting for the metal to part for him as he went. The heavy door swung shut behind them and the fence rippled, a hole forming until there was a gap large enough to pass through. Erik left it that way once they were on the other side, to wait for their return.

The east wing of the house turned out to be much like the north, but larger. It was nearly broken into two sections on its own - they passed by several supply rooms, a few smaller chambers serving as storage rooms and pantries, a ballroom that had been turned into a training facility, and a kitchen that was fit to feed a small army. That was likely the point, as the rooms thereafter were all personal quarters. 

Erik led them past a turn in the hallway not too far from the kitchen and brought them into a dining room. Two familiar faces were visible among the strangers from the previous day, all crowded around a large table.

Both of their heads shot up, one blond, one silver. " _Charles._ " Alex's familiar voice was filled with some mix of relief and pent up tension. 

"X Man!" Pietro echoed in a much lighter tone. 

He almost jumped up from the table, but, much slower than Charles could remember him ever being, Charles beat him to their sides. He ignored the six other pairs of wary eyes. "Are you alright?"

Alex had half turned, but when Charles caught sight of his wrist, he saw why the young man hadn't made it all the way around. He was handcuffed to the table. 

"More or less," the blond growled. His eyes shot to Erik pointedly and back to Charles. "You?" 

It took a second, but Charles nodded. "Yes. Yes I'm alright."

Erik gestured, and an amount of tension left the other occupants of the room. No one was willing to question Erik's decision to bring a powerful telepath and possible enemy into the heart of their base, but knowing he was incapacitated eased at least _some_ of their fears.

"They're fine, despite the fact blondie here has a bit of a temper," one of the dark haired women said with a smile and a wink towards Alex. "You should count yourself lucky that Aireo didn't rip your arms off for trying to punch him.

The redhead at the table glared down into his coffee mug and refused to comment. A Latino boy beside him rolled his eyes. " _Basta._ We don't need you making things worse, Marti."

"Mastermind," she countered, spearing a piece of french toast with her fork.

" _Behave_ ," Erik snapped, glaring at both of them. "Mastermind, Rictor, I need to talk to you both about the next plan of action. _Privately,_ " he added, sparing a glance towards Charles and the two captive X-men. "Astra, make sure the others stay civil. And make a fresh pot of coffee, if you would."

The sharp eyed, black haired woman that Charles recognized as the resident teleporter raised her eyebrows at the request, but Erik had grabbed a couple of pieces of toast and swept off towards the hallway. 

Mastermind and Rictor both rose to their feet, glanced at one another, then followed Erik's retreating form.

Charles and everyone else in the room watched them go. Then the others turned back on him and his two companions. 

Charles tried for a pleasant smile. "Got you all on a short leash, has he?" He didn't miss Alex's glower at his side or the way Pietro's face split into a grin, sensing the tension in the room could very well spark at any second. While Alex hunched over his plate, Pietro rocked back in his chair.

The four wary faces staring back at Charles were a motley crew at best, most little more than teenagers in most cases. Charles had no idea how Erik had found them, but then again, Erik didn't try to hide in public when he didn't have to. 

"Only ones on a leash are you three," the tall, bestial blond growled. Elongated canines flashed as he spoke.

"Or needles, same thing," the redhead grinned at Alex, only for the blond man next to him to shake his head.

A blond teen across the table from him snorted. "Keep it up, Aireo, and you're going to get fried when they get taken off the juice. Hell, I might help him, just to take you down a few pegs."

Astra gave all three of them a sour look, then rolled her eyes and leveled a crooked, apologetic smile at Pietro and Charles. "Sorry, they're incorrigible. Need anything else while I'm getting the coffee?"

"Whatever you're having," Charles said with a little more sincerity in his smile. He tried in spite of the serum to reach out to their minds, but it was no use. They had an odd kind of dynamic and Charles wished he could see what it was, although he was getting small clues already. 

Astra had to be trusted. She was their teleporter and Erik had asked her to do a menial task without expecting much backlash. Then again, that could be just Erik. 

Alex was glaring at Aireo with a cocky expression and a raise of his brow, just daring him to wait for the serum to wear off, but he was knocked in the shoulder by Pietro finally setting all four chair legs back to the floor and chomping down a mouthful of toast. 

"Are you expecting Erik to allow us our powers back soon?" Charles asked honestly, shooting the question to Astra over his shoulder once he'd assessed the others. 

She was already halfway to the miniature kitchen tucked in one corner of the room. She set a fresh pot to brew and came back with a spare plate and utensils from one of the cupboards underneath the counter. "...honestly, probably not for Mr. Summers, given he's a handful even without his gifts. Really, it's dependent on what Magneto thinks, though he does ask us for input."

She shrugged and scooped a fried egg, a couple pieces of bacon, and two buttered slices of toast onto the plate and handed it to Charles before resuming her seat. "It's not that he doesn't listen to us, but he only listens to a certain point. When his mind's set, you really can't sway him."

"Which is why we're stuck babysitting two brats and his pet psychic," the bestial man grumbled.

Charles frowned his way, but then turned to set his plate at the table with the others. 

Alex didn't look like he fancied talking anymore, probably with no small dose of paranoia. Pietro, on the other hand, seemed almost at home. 

Charles found himself glancing between the others and found some of them glancing at his small group just the same. He chewed his egg carefully - actually not bad - and considered. So far they had not been as wary of him as he'd expected. Perhaps because Charles had never before posed a threat to other mutants. They seemed to know a bit about him. Erik had only been gone for a few minutes and Charles had no idea when he'd be back, but given the opportunity, Charles would have liked to know who he was dealing with. 

"So. How did Erik come by you all?"

The group exchanged glances. None of them were quite certain how much they were supposed to say. Erik had left them alone with their prisoners, but that could just as easily prove a test of loyalty as much as an act of trust.

"...I wrote some stuff, published a few underground ‘zines," the younger blond finally admitted. "Mostly fiction, but I had a section where I covered mutant news for other mutants. Magneto got into contact and convinced me to join."

"He busted me out of a lab. GenTeq," the red haired man grunted. "Military research. He told me he remembered what being a lab rat felt like and gave me a chance to get some payback, take down the rest of their labs."

The bestial man laughed. "Haven't managed much of that yet, airhead," he rumbled. "Get a few kills under your belt before you start bragging about payback and military research. Erik got you in an aviation research lab, not a military prison."

Astra leveled a look at him. "...Sabertooth, you know he doesn't like you calling him that."

Charles paused. "Just Magneto now, hm?" He wasn't sure how he felt about that. One one hand, only he and perhaps Raven were left to find any amusement in the name's origin, but on the other...the Magneto the world had come to know was a very different persona. Charles noted they hadn't corrected him when he'd used the man's first name. With a certain amount of affected nonchalance, Charles turned back to shoveling egg onto his fork. "And where did he find you, Sabertooth?"

"Prison." Sabertooth grinned and reached for another piece of bacon from the plate in the middle of the table. "All these kids talk big, but they're completely green. Rookies. Aireo did a fair bit of damage throwing his little tantrum in '74, no mistake, but none of 'em have had their first face-to-face kill."

"And we shouldn't _have_ to." The blond who'd professed to being a journalist threw down his fork. "None of us are here to kill people, that isn't the _point_. If we were just a terrorist group out to murder all the humans, I don't think any of us would have joined. Except _you_ , maybe."

"Pyro's right," Astra said with a side glance at Charles. "I mean, there are lots of bigots out there that we wish weren't around, but that's... not what we're about. We all want to help make some change, and none of us really have anywhere else to go besides that."

Charles let this sink in. 

"That's not necessarily true," he said with a glance her way and then to each of them, minus Sabertooth. They were not unlike the first band of mutants Charles had known, still coming into their powers. But then again, weren't they all when so few could actually hone their skill. He caught Alex looking at him, but not entirely with disapproval. 

"Yeah, we're pretty set," Pietro chimed in, leaning back and draping an arm over the back of his chair.

"It's kinda creepy and cold down here, but we're all a lot better off than we were." Pyro ticked off a list on his fingers. "Plenty of food. No need to worry about being found, or having to pretend to be a human when we're home. We're not bossed around that much. We've got plenty of free time to do whatever, we can go exploring if there's no mission coming up as long as we let everyone know where we're going, and we can train and experiment with what we can do. E-... Magneto even helps out with training."

"Sort of," the redhead grunted. "If you're not worried about him taking your head off."

"It's not _that_ bad," Astra protested. Her gaze slid sideways in annoyance as Sabertooth began laughing.

Alex's eyes shifted curiously between them, and Charles imagined the expression on his own face must look similar. ”He does have _unusual_ methods," Charles commented, pushing scraps around on his plate. "Once, he knocked Sean off a satellite dish when we were teaching him how to fly. Sean did catch on quickly after that." Charles allowed himself a small smile at the thought, noting Sabertooth's look of approval and doing his best to elicit fond memories of their friend....but Alex's frown only deepened. Charles would have to let that be. Alex was already with him; it was the others he had to get to know. 

The younger Brotherhood members looked at one another. Charles didn't need his telepathy to guess what they were thinking; they were curious, about the same age as the older students he had back home in the mansion. Charles obviously had known Erik for a while, and all of them wanted to know more about their leader, but none of them were certain how much Charles could be trusted. Or how much it was safe to say.

"He's always been very nice when testing my teleport limits, and setting schedules," Astra finally ventured.

"Yeah, well, that's because it's hard for a jumper like you to piss him off," the redhead complained.  
"You're not battle material. Pyro gets targets, easy enough. Sabertooth and I are the ones who get the crap beat out of us if we push too far."

"Correction, Aireo," Sabertooth growled. " _You_ get shown just how much of a snot-nosed novice you are, and you throw a tantrum afterward like a child when you fail, instead of learning from your mistakes. I rather _enjoy_ our sparring sessions. It's rare that I get a repeat challenger."

"You manipulate air in much the same way Erik manipulates metal, yes?" Charles picked up smoothly, ignoring Sabertooth altogether. It wasn't hard projecting an interest in these young mutants. Honestly, Charles didn't have to project, he just had to forget that Erik could come back at any moment. "That would be a match to see, I'll admit. I hope he doesn't get too carried away. Erik was always strong, but it wasn't until we trained together that he gained the most control over his power." Charles glanced to Alex, and then Pietro. "As did we all." 

It wasn't until he turned back to the table that he noticed the others staring at him. Even Sabertooth, who was still trying to project an uncaring, gruff attitude. 

"...just how long _have_ you known Magneto?" Pyro asked, openly reevaluating Charles' age.

Astra had evidently done the same and a slow flush spread across her cheeks. She coughed and quickly buried her nose in her coffee mug to disguise her expression.

"And just how're you a match for Magneto?" Aireo drawled and shot Charles a disdainful look. "All this bother for a cripple who was a piece of cake to bag. You must have _something_ useful he wants, if he's keeping you behind the Vault."

Pyro bristled. "Shut _up_ , Aireo."

"Or what? You think you're in charge with Maggie out of the room?"

Charles' eyebrows rose. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Pietro's exaggerated shock as he mouthed _M A G G I E ?_ in Charles' direction. Erik's newfound nickname was not what caught his interest, however. 

Charles had to choose his words carefully. "Erik and I have known one another for _quite_ some time now, although admittedly with certain gaps in between. Of which I'm sure you're aware." He glanced between Astra, Pyro, and the others, seeing it dawn on them. They had Charles' curiosity piqued as well, but he didn't allow himself to let on. Although, his mind helpfully supplied a vision of the steel barricade at every door of the North wing. Charles felt his stomach lurch. 

"...sort of." Pyro looked at the others, but when no one else wanted to chip in, he sighed. "I did a bit of digging on him when I got my invitation to join. He's actually damn hard to trace. I mean, there's the stuff he did with the Sentinels, and he broke out of a max security prison somewhere for assassinating Kennedy-"

"Which he says he _didn't_ do," Astra pointed out.

"Maybe he's lying," Aireo butted in. "You honestly think he hasn't assassinated anyone?"

"No, I'm guessing he has, just... I dunno, I believe him when he says he didn't do Kennedy," Pyro said. "But I'm pretty sure he's hiding other stuff, too. I don't think his supposed name is his real name, because I looked and the records just stop after a certain point. And I know it's not connected to... y'know." Pyro tapped his fingers against his left wrist. "Nazis did a lot of stuff, but they were obsessed with preserving records, especially genealogy stuff."

"Wait, what?" Astra frowned.

"He's a leftover kike, idjit." Sabertooth turned his head and spat on the floor. "Never seen his barcode? Or were you lookin' somewhere else?"

Charles couldn't help the way he pulled back, not wanting to be in this man's line of sight. He also couldn't help but notice some of the others shift away, too, and not just Alex and Pietro. 

He was beginning to understand that this little band Erik had put together had only bits and pieces of his history. Which was typical of the Erik he remembered. Had it not been for his telepathy, he would have probably gotten just as little from the man. 

Sabertooth had just started to speak again when the silverware in front of him melted. Faster than he could blink, it had slithered into a cord, shot up to wrap around his neck, and pulled him backwards with a force violent enough that one of the legs of his chair snapped as it fell. His legs struggled for purchase against the ground as he was dragged, clawing at the metal noose choking off his air.

Erik was in the doorway, eyes bright with murderous, almost _mindless_ rage.

Sabertooth was abruptly lifted off the ground and flung into the farthest wall hard enough that he left a crater in the plaster-covered wood. The rest of the Brotherhood ditched the breakfast table and got out of the way.

That left the three of them, Charles, Alex who couldn't move, and Pietro, who had managed several steps, but no more. 

Breathless silence filled the room. No one moved. A bright red splatter was left behind when Sabertooth slumped, and Charles realized the Brotherhood had just witnessed the death of one of their own. His pulse beat rapidly. He could hear it in his ears. If anyone should speak, it should be him, but he couldn't. 

Alex's weight shifted, cuffed hand taut against its tether. If he were free right now, he'd be running. No matter that he wasn't fast enough. He'd be grabbing Charles and Pietro and making for the door. It was written all over him. 

Other metal in the room vibrated softly, giving the eerie impression of a trained animal. An animal that knew it was about to hear an order to rip, to kill. Another snake of melted metal flowed off the tabletop and flew through the air, joined by another two from nearby cupboards. Sabertooth had just started trying to move again when he was jerked to his feet like a dog on a choke chain. Erik stalked closer and the metal hovering around him split into shards. Into _knives_.

"It looks like I missed quite the interesting conversation." Erik ignored the trickle of blood at the corner of Sabertooth's mouth and began nonchalantly peeling off one glove. Sabertooth tried to reach for him with clawed hands as soon as he was in range, only to give a strangled cry of pain; four metal shards had buried themselves in his flesh, pinning his hands and shoulders to the walls.

"Was this what you wanted to discuss, Victor?" Erik turned his wrist and displayed it in front of the man. "Do you have some unresolved bigotries I should know about? Or are you just spoiling for a fight enough to have a death wish?"

Charles couldn't believe the man was still alive. He was fast bleeding out. Erik had hit at least one major artery and Charles could see Victor's chest glisten with every heaving breath he took. It was pooling on the floor. 

No one else was moving. They barely breathed. Charles could see every one of them out of the corner of his eye. He felt like invisible bands of iron had gagged the entire room. 

"Erik," Charles finally whispered, breaking the silence. He hated that he wasn't immune to the feeling. Charles didn't think Victor would last another ten minutes. 

Sabertooth had a truly bizarre expression painted across his face - not quite a snarl, chest heaving in small, staccato bursts. _Laughter_. 

Erik's expression darkened. He stepped back a few paces and tilted his head thoughtfully. The knives piercing Sabertooth's body left with a wet sound and returned to Erik's side, dripping onto the floorboards. One circular motion of his finger and the noose around the man's neck released him. "...come on, then."

The bestial man howled and flung himself at Erik, claws outstretched and fangs glinting.

Charles jerked back. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Alex and Pietro doing the same, but Alex was brought up short by his wrist. The blond ducked, using the table for cover while Pietro, in a moment of clarity, grabbed at Charles and tried to haul him back. " _Get Alex,_ " Charles waved him off instead. The dining room was big, but it wasn't _that_ big. Not enough to avoid the line of fire, Charles feared. 

It was a dance, and it was only just now starting to become apparent that it must have been one the two men had done before. The other Brotherhood members looked on, more entranced than frightened now that they were well out of the way. 

Sabertooth was quick, but Erik was quicker; the bestial man laughed in between snarls and grunts of pain, trying to sink claws or teeth into Erik while Erik dodged out of the way. Rather than landing direct blows, body to body, metal moved around him like a living thing - bludgeoning, stabbing, hooking limbs to trip up his opponent, ripping. Erik wasn't quite able to avoid the spattering of blood, but none of the loss was slowing Sabertooth down.

Charles had managed it back to Alex's side with Pietro and together they worked as quickly as they could to free him. They were out of the way for now, but if just one of those metal shards came at them or if Sabertooth decided to make a run for the furniture... 

With every blow, Charles was beginning to understand that Victor was not in danger of dying, which was a miracle in itself. The _way_ they fought was another. Charles found it hard to look away, and not just because of the danger. 

Pietro was making no progress, and Alex was just about considering wrenching his own thumb out of its socket when Charles had the idea to bend the chain between two metal candle holders, hoping they'd be strong enough. 

He glanced up again and Erik was twisting away from a blow, spinning on his feet, shards of metal flying with him like an extension of his fist and forearm and ripping into his opponent's back. 

Charles heard a _crack_ , but it wasn't Victor. Alex was free and scrambling up with Pietro, and together they hurried Charles back out of range with the others. 

"Is that it, you oven-magn-"

Sabertooth got cut off in mid-speech. A shard of metal had shifted into a spike and, lightning-fast, angled itself into the man's mouth, stopping just at the soft palate. Erik had looked angry before, but now even Sabertooth realized he must have crossed a line. From the rigid line of his spine, it seemed the man was uncertain just how far he could heal from significant brain damage.

"This is your last warning, Victor. We're never going to discuss this topic again." Erik started moving forward. The spike moved with him, and Sabertooth hurriedly backed up. His attempts to grab the spike left him with cut and bloody palms, and in the end his back hit the wall. 

" If you ever use an ethnic slur against me again, I find out about it, and I will remove your tongue in such a way that you won't regenerate it. Are we clear?" Sabertooth's expression must not have been enough for Erik. His lips pulled back into a snarl and another coil of metal slammed into the man, wrapping around him and forcing him down to his knees. Forcing him into a supplicating position. "Are. We. _Clear_?"

Sabertooth made a sound of agreement around the metal invading his mouth. Erik's eyes narrowed and, finally, all the metal withdrew. The shards softened into orbs and began drifting in a sedate halo above his head. "... _good_. You're going to clean up this mess, and then you're going to go hunting for our larders. I don't want to see you for the next two days."

With that, Erik turned on his heel and walked back to the group. He didn't even glance at anyone but Charles; the rest of the room might as well have not existed.

Fear gripped Charles. It was all he could do to force Alex and Pietro to back off, out of his space before Erik reached him. His hands gripped the arms of his chair, ready - no, _not_ ready, for anything. 

Every step Erik took left an imprint of red behind him. He was drenched with it, the color of his shirt almost black and slick with shine. It was in his hair, swept over his forehead like spatters of spray paint, and dripping down his nose. 

Charles felt his stomach lurch. There was grace in Erik's step now when there had been jerkiness before. His head dipped and his shoulders were taut, and everything about him, from the sound of his breathing to the ominous spheres trailing behind him, emanated power. Charles felt his insides give another twist...this time not wholly from fright. 

And Erik, curse him, seemed to be able to read something of it in Charles' eyes. His lips tilted upward in a smirk that slowly spread, showing far too many teeth. It was an expression Charles had seen before, usually when Erik was emotionally off balance. Like that fateful afternoon with the gun pressed against his forehead, daring Charles to pull the trigger.

Erik stopped walking just short of the edges of Charles' feet, but he didn't stop moving; he bent slightly, and when Charles' arms pulled close in self-defense Erik's bloody hands curled around the armrests of the chair. "Breakfast turned out to be a little more eventful than I'd planned."

Charles felt himself swallow. He could feel everything, from the electric spark radiating off Erik, hooking into his chest and gripping him tight, to the stares of every other person in the room. And he could feel nothing at all. He had no idea what they were thinking. He had no idea where Erik's mind was, if he was even rational at all. 

Charles was aware a flush had come over him, that his heart and breaths were rapid in his chest. Charles didn't dare touch Erik, didn't dare glance away from blue-grey eyes that looked electric in this light. 

"So I see." Charles swallowed again. Wetted his lips. His mouth had gone dry and he vaguely wondered if Erik could smell his fear, or smell his... "Is that how you usually train?" 

"No. Sabertooth has a particular taste for... punishment. He heals so quickly that ordinary training bores him, so he has a tendency to pick fights and test boundaries." Erik's gaze finally shifted for a brief moment to the Brotherhood members before returning to Charles. They picked up some unspoken signal and began to back off into the hallway, leaving Erik with his three 'guests'.

"I should have predicted that he would try something today, given that he had a new audience. It isn't going to happen again."

Alex and Pietro hovered, not knowing what to do. Charles could see them out of the corners of his eyes and was sure that he and Erik made for quite a sight. Erik looked almost manic. He hadn't moved an inch back either. 

Charles licked his lips again. "Erik, why don't you sit down. You've barely eaten." It was transparent at best. At worst, it could set Erik off. 

"Hmmm." Erik's gaze shifted with the movement, focusing on the point where Charles' tongue had disappeared back between his lips. When he met Charles' eyes again, his smile had turned wry. "I suppose I haven't. I _am_ still hungry, but I'm afraid I might put off your companions in this state."  
His smile inched just a bit wider, and it was clear he _knew_. Erik knew, and he was responding. He didn't seem to particularly care that Pietro and Alex were right there. He looked as if he wouldn't mind devouring Charles on the spot, witnesses or no. "I think it's time to return to the north wing. You can insist that I finish there, if you're so concerned about my wellbeing."

Charles didn't think it was possible to feel this flushed and still have ice in his gut at the same time. He opened his mouth to speak, but never got the chance. 

" _I think Charles should stay here,_ " Alex interrupted, voice firmer than even he seemed to expect. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he clenched it tight. Pietro was looking between all of them with wide eyes, clearly unsure what to do. 

When Erik's attention snapped to the voice, Charles grabbed his forearm. Erik's smile had vanished. He looked hollow, somehow - hungry, wolfish. There was an emptiness to be filled, and it hadn't been satisfied with bleeding his one follower who could take such a beating and survive. 

"...and yet, I don't recall asking for your opinion. Rather presumptuous, as well, speaking for Charles."

Alex wouldn't last in a fight. After what had been demonstrated, perhaps not even with his powers, but _certainly_ not without them.

"We're just a little worried is all." Now it was Pietro piping up, edging this way and that on his feet. "You got scary, Magnets." Charles could see the tremble in his smile and when the tendons in Erik's arm shifted under his palm, Charles gripped twice as hard. 

" _Erik._ " Truth be told, he feared going back there alone with Erik now almost as much as his companions feared for him. But they could not be in Erik's way, not with that look in his eye and this much blood on his hands. "I'll go. _To eat._ And you can clean up. And we'll talk... alright?"

Erik's gaze shifted back to Charles, and a sense of weight came with it, like the air in the room was suddenly pressing around them. It reminded Charles of being next to an observation panel at the zoo, only a thin, transparent pane of glass between the observer and the hunter on the other side.

Erik blinked and Charles felt the tension ease in the arm under his hand. "Alright." Pietro shifted. Erik didn't turn to look at him, but he added, "You'll get another visit later. Without interruptions next time."

Charles nodded, feeling overwhelmingly grateful for that. Alex would be furious on his behalf, he knew, but he and Pietro would be out of Erik's reach. 

"Go back and find the others." Charles broke his gaze from Erik and levelled it at them. _Stay out of Sabertooth's way_ didn't need to be said, but with the rest of the Brotherhood, Charles understood they would be alright. At least for now. He could feel Erik's eyes on him, still so close, and no doubt it was unsettling not just him. _I'll be alright_ he tried to will into his thoughts. 

It took Alex a second to speak. They were outnumbered, overpowered, and for all intents and purposes held prisoner. "You don't have to go alone - " 

" _Alex_ ," Charles interrupted. "I'll be fine."

He felt tension wind through Erik again; he seemed to resent Alex's implication that Charles was in danger when alone with him. Erik glared at the blond but said nothing. Whatever he said wouldn't make much of a difference in Alex's eyes, and Erik was only concerned with the opinions of one person anyway. That person was assuredly _not_ Alex.

The electric lights flickered for a brief moment.

"Rictor and Mastermind are on assignment, so you'll need to talk to Astra or Pyro if you require anything." Erik extracted his arm from Charles' grasp. It left red stains streaked across his skin. "Charles. If you'll follow me?"

Charles nodded, the coils of wary tension easing when he turned and gave the same nod, more firmly, to Alex and Pietro and neither could object further. Still, they both watched him as Erik straightened and stepped back and Charles put his bloody hand on the wheels of his chair, moving to follow. 

They stared as Charles left, trailing after a man caught somewhere between mania and sanity. When the doors of the dining hall closed behind them, Charles wasn't sure whether he felt relieved or not. 

Erik didn't need to look back to see Charles was following - he could sense the metal frame of the chair even if he couldn't hear it moving. The hallways were empty as they made their way back to the main hall. Sabertooth had limped off to heal before fulfilling his ordered penance, and none of the other Brotherhood members wanted to be in Erik's way after he lost his temper.

Erik's pace finally slowed when they reached the core room of the house. He glanced back once the metal doors and barrier were in view. Charles had said nothing, and Erik didn't have the gift of reading minds to be able to know what he was thinking. Charles knew this and still nearly flinched away under that gaze. 

He thought of only one thing to say. "The Vault?" 

Charles, of course, had assumed it was meant for him. The low metal fence most definitely was, but even Charles had to say that the thick steel doors were overkill. He raised an eyebrow at Erik. Erik, standing with the line of his body rigid as he looked back. Without the helmet he should have looked like the Erik Charles had known, but he didn't. He was just as unreadable. 

Erik frowned in irritation. "I thought I had told the others to stop calling my quarters that." His tone implied that he'd be having words with the Brotherhood members later, as someone clearly wasn't respecting his wishes if Charles had been told the north wing's tongue-in-cheek nickname.

Erik followed Charles' line of sight, then back. "...you don't approve."

"I thought it was for me." Charles, again, wasn't sure if he felt better or worse at this revelation. On the one hand, whether Erik had meant it for him or not, it was still just as convenient for keeping Charles under his thumb, but on the other... He wheeled a little closer, deliberately shortening the distance between them until they were side by side. "Who are you trying to keep out, Erik?"

Charles almost missed spotting the way Erik flinched when he drew too close. "...no one specific. It's an early warning system, of sorts. I can tell if someone is outside the doors. If they're an enemy, I then have plenty of material to work with. It helps keep out sounds echoing from other parts of the house and the cavern outside."

Charles was staring. Erik turned his head so he wouldn't have to meet that gaze. He looked like he wasn't certain whether empathy or judgment would be worse to see in his friend's eyes, and Charles wanted to touch him then. He wanted to lay his hand on Erik's back and pat his shoulder like the way he had so easily when they were younger. When Erik would look at him afterward and smile that toothy grin. 

But it was different now, and Charles didn't know what would happen if he tried. Erik's back was stained as red and wet as his front, and the gesture may not even be welcome. 

"Very practical," Charles finally said and moved up to the barrier, waiting for Erik to move it aside. 

The fence parted and flowed to let them move through before solidifying behind them and the door clicked as all the bolts slid back before it opened silently on well-oiled hinges. Erik waited for Charles to wheel through the portal before he followed and let it close behind them.

The sounds of the door relocking were all the louder in the quiet of the hallway.

"...the kitchen is still a mess, unfortunately. Give me a moment to wash off and I'll take care of it. If you're still hungry," Erik added.

Charles wasn't. Any remaining appetite he might have had had been swallowed up in a wash of anxiety and adrenaline, but Charles nodded anyway. "I'll wait for you there." He most certainly wasn't going to follow Erik. 

Charles caught himself being watched before he took a stronger hold on the wheel again and moved to go, resolutely not looking at the other man as he did. 

Charles remembered where the kitchen was. And, as Erik had said, it was still a mess. Upturned pots and pans, silverware and knives littered the ground. And there were the coffee beans, sprayed out like the aftermath of a battle in its own right. He avoided it as best he could, but eventually just found himself sitting in the middle of an empty room, lights low and nothing but silence to keep him company. 

Between the lack of clocks, the dim unnatural light, and the quiet, time started to feel strange. Warped. It was difficult for Charles to tell how long it had actually been from the time he'd returned to the kitchen and the time Erik rejoined him, but it felt like an hour. More likely it hadn't been more than 15 minutes.

Erik reappeared in loose black trousers and a dark grey t-shirt, hair still damp from washing. He gave Charles a double glance before he got a broom out of the closet and began sweeping up the debris. Everything metallic levitated slowly back to the countertop and sink. "You didn't have to wait here, you know. You can go anywhere in this wing that you want. I didn't mention the kitchen as a roundabout way of ordering you to be here."

Charles shrugged. "Where else would I go?" There was no bite in his tone, but they both understood what the statement meant. The last thing Charles had felt like doing was exploring again, not when Erik was like this. He had calmed considerably, but Charles still didn't feel quite right. He had to wonder if that sort of thing happened a lot when Erik had to deal with people now. Perhaps, to a lesser extent. Victor had....struck a nerve, definitely. And after...well, Charles had caught a glimpse of very real bloodlust without the benefit of any telepathy.

Erik shrugged and dumped the first panful of plastic and glass shards into the garbage bin. "I usually end up in the library, when I need to think. It's more open and more comfortable than the rest of the house. Some of the rooms feel like-... well, what they are. Small boxes underground." Erik had half the floor clean now, but he still wasn't looking at Charles.

That didn't mean he was ignoring Charles. On the contrary, it felt like he was barely paying attention to what he was doing. His focus was firmly on the telepath, enough that Charles began to feel like he was inside a small cage with a lion. 

They were performing a very strange dance, one that Charles wasn't sure in which he should participate. Participating would only spur Erik on. And yet, Charles couldn't help but watch the line of Erik's back as he moved. The thin material of the t-shirt didn't hide much, and Charles could see the sinew of lean muscle as he bent to sweep another pile from the floor. 

"I do think I would prefer the library, to be honest," Charles admitted. He'd spent so much time in libraries over the course of his life that one anywhere would be more of a comfort than not. Especially when it didn't have memories of flying utensils. But Erik was between himself and the door now, and he wasn't sure if Erik was at all hungry anyway. Getting breakfast had been a transparent diversion. 

Erik binned the last of the debris and set the broom and dustpan aside. He finally looked back at Charles.  
He looked hungry, but not for food. The glint that had been present in the dining hall had returned, without a blood-covered exterior surrounding it this time. Something of Charles' unease must have shown on his face because a flicker of a smile touched Erik's mouth, just for a moment. "...we'll go to the library then. Since you wanted to talk."

Charles swallowed. For the first time, he was just a little glad he couldn't feel Erik's thoughts. 

When he passed silently, Erik didn't comment further, but he followed. Charles felt him like a ghost at his back the whole way there, mere presence overpowering enough to set goosebumps across his flesh. 

The library was just the same as they had left it, chess board set aside and lights glowing low. Charles was glad they were kept on in most areas they visited. He didn't know how well he'd do in the dark in a place like this. When he turned to Erik finally, he found the man standing against the door frame, watching him again. 

Charles cleared his throat, casting about for something to say. "You've put together quite the team my friend. For the most part, they were better company than I'd expected." He tried to smile. 

"I'm limited by who I can find. Aireo and Sabertooth are the only two to be concerned about, and even then, not by much. Aireo is all talk, and Sabertooth only pushes so far. We have a mutual understanding." Erik crossed his arms and tried to look at ease, but the tension in his frame belied it. As did the slight flicker of the room's lights, filaments and electrical flow responding to short pulses of magnetic fields. "He isn't a danger to the others, or your companions, so long as they don't try to pick a fight with him."

Charles nodded, trying to ignore the tingle up his spine. ...trying to ignore Erik's mood. "That's good to hear." He would not thank Erik for letting him see them - Charles had to maintain that that should not be a privilege - but he was glad Erik had. Instead, he took a breath and ploughed on. "What have you got Rictor and Mastermind up to?" He saw the slight tightening of Erik's eyes, but Charles held his gaze. This was definitely not the line of conversation Erik had intended them to have when they returned, but Charles was going to have it anyway. And perhaps not admit aloud that he was avoiding other topics. 

"...I don't think that's any of your business," Erik began slowly. "But I'm having them check up on a lead. There's rumor of a compound that's been developed for tagging mutants for identification. Something that can be laced into drinking water with no ill effects other than interacting with the mutant gene and somehow marking them. They're verifying whether this is true and, if so, cutting off any access that lab might have to water supplies until we can get there to remove the threat."

Charles raised his eyebrows. That was enough to distract him from Erik's intense focus. "If this is true, then word of it hasn't gone through official channels at all." He would have found out. Moira may have been the best, but she was not his only contact in the government anymore. Charles had seen the need for those connections early on and had nurtured them well, even if he'd had to use a certain amount of mental influence to do so. But even with his numerous sources, Charles had to admit he was not omniscient. There were branches of the government he would never come to know because his contacts did not know them. "Do you plan to expose them, if this is true? You're talking about the covert contamination of public resources with some kind of compound that could never have been tested well enough to have been approved safe for humans or mutants alike. This could very well get you support on both sides." 

"It depends precisely on what we find and how deep the chain of corruption goes. If exposure will get support and ensure work on the compound is permanently shelved, then that's how we'll move forward. First priority, however, is verifying that the information sources are true, and not a trap, and then preventing the laboratory staff from preemptively moving forward with their project if they suspect they've been found out." Erik straightened and began to close the distance between them. "...what, Charles? Surprised that you don't hear everything that goes on behind closed doors and through dirty channels? Or were you expecting me to say that I was going to just turn the lab into a bloodbath?"

"Not expecting, no, but I would be glad all the same that you don't. But..." Charles sighed. "No. I do appreciate what you're trying to do here." Managing it without casualties would be the difficulty, but the Brotherhood had done it before. They had blood on their hands, yes, but it had been some time since lives had been lost directly at their actions. Charles wasn't going to shoot Erik down over a decent plan of action even when Erik stopped in front of him and stared hard, challenging Charles to do just that. 

"I don't know if you truly understand what I'm trying to do here, which is the same reason your optimistic pacifism is so painfully naive. Even _dangerous_ ," Erik grumbled and gave Charles a sharp look. "I will do _anything_ to stop what I fear is coming. But I also would prefer to stop it without needless suffering, and with you by my side. For strategic reasons as well as personal ones."

Charles felt a flush come over him, but it was also born of shame. Of guilt, even. "You fear a war. Not just war. Complete, attempted annihilation." And again Charles wanted to go to Erik. To touch him. To comfort him. He was sure that Erik could see it in his gaze. Because though Charles would not let himself act based on this kind of fear, he was not exempt from it himself, and how well he could see it in the other man. 

Erik had much reason to fear the way the world could turn. Far more than he. 

"You've never seen such a thing. You've never lived through the early warning signs, or the slide of oppression into violence that gradually becomes an unstoppable machine, grinding up everyone in its path." Erik crouched down so that they were level with one another, and there was a flat, haunted look to him. "You've been sheltered. You're from a moneyed background, a favored ethnicity and nationality. You've never seen real war. As far as I can tell, you've never had to kill anyone, or deal with the body count after everything is done. I wonder if you've even been paying attention to some of the things going on in the world. Or if they're invisible to you. Or perhaps you see them and they don't matter, because you don't see how the events and problems are related, how the pattern will keep propagating down the chain until it reaches even your sheltered, comfortable, _safe_ life."

Charles did not let himself flinch away. Any thought he had of breaching the space between them for comfort was quietly snuffed out. Erik wouldn't accept it. "You're right," he admitted. "You have more reason to act than I ever have. I _cannot_ fault you for that, and Erik, _you are not wrong_." he felt his breath grow short from the sheer amount of emotion that admission pulled from him. He could feel his eyes plead with the other man. "But how will it end? The way in which war is fought _can_ have just as much impact for the better.” 

Erik was watching him intently. 

“One thing I do have, perhaps the only thing I do have, has been the point of view of so many people. I am not them, _but I see them_. Our kind needs help, but I fear you will bring that war faster than you will avoid it if you are not careful." 

"Which is why I need you." Erik searched Charles' face but didn't reach out, didn't do anything to close the distance. "There are things that you see, that you understand, that are not mine. I understand war. I've lived through it and know that, if necessary, I can and will fight to make certain some things never happen again. What I don't understand is the perspective of people like you, and how they will react when their comfort and illusions are shattered. I'm not good at walking fine lines. I know how to plan for battles, but I don't know how to plan for peace."

Charles went still. His breath might have stopped. That was...not what he'd been expecting. 

His lips parted. "Erik...." 

He'd been wrong. Goddamn his lack of telepathy. That sounded like _hope_. He stared hard at Erik's open expression, Charles probably mirroring one in return, and wished he could see inside of the man.

Charles felt shaken down to his core because, truth be told, that was what he wanted, too. "...you would be willing to do that? To work with me? To battle only so far as we must to save our kind, to prevent war?" 

Erik was equally still. "I told you, that was why I brought you here. To try to show you things, to convince you to work with me without taking the chance that you'd simply incapacitate me and have me put into another cage. We have to learn to trust one another if this is going to work, because we both have blind spots."

Erik swallowed, and his expression grew nervous before hardening again. 

"...I find it very hard to trust anyone anymore, but I'm willing to let you into my mind if that's what it takes. For you to have a better understanding. To work at building that trust. To prove to you that I'm telling the truth about this, or to settle any other doubts you might have. I just need to know that you aren't going to immediately betray that trust."

Charles felt a shiver run across his skin. The thought of having his mind back... the thought that Erik was serious about this, even though, yes, he had promised it before, but the idea that he did not only want Charles to work _with_ him, but that his paranoia may not have overtaken his hope for peace, that was enough for Charles. 

He felt himself nodding. He felt himself softening. 

"Yes. Yes, if you can do that, then I give you my word I will not betray your trust." 

And Charles meant it. If Erik went through with what he said, and things still didn't work out between their goals, then Charles would only go as far as to use his power to walk away in safety. He would owe Erik that much for trying. 

Erik stared back like he couldn't quite believe that Charles was agreeing. Perhaps he was weighing the consequences one last time, trying to decide how far Charles would go if he did decide to betray him. He leaned forward slightly, unconsciously. "...we'll wait, then. You have a few hours before the last dose wears off."

And it was that simple. 

Charles felt, in the stillness and silence that followed, like the world might have stopped. A weight he'd been carrying in his chest since this whole thing started began to lift. Erik looked so calm standing there. He'd committed to this decision. As he said he would. 

"Thank you," Charles found himself whispering. 

Erik searched Charles' face one more time. He was betting everything on Charles, on the hope that they could work together to stop the familiar coming storm that he could feel like an ache in his bones. On the chance that he wouldn't have to see any more cold numerical lists of casualties and photos of mutants who'd died from fear and hatred.

Before Erik had a chance to reconsider, before Charles could fully react, Erik leaned forward and kissed him.

Just as quickly he rocked back on his heels, rose to his feet, and retreated from the library.

Charles was left sitting there, heart beating rapidly, unable to move. 

That had been... equally unexpected. Except for all the signs. Back in the dining hall. The way Erik had been watching him ever since. The way Charles could remember the attraction between them before their paths had split. He felt heat rushing over his face, spreading down his neck. 

At once he wanted to follow, and he wanted to stay. He wanted to weigh the pros and cons of where a rekindled attraction between them might lead. But after a moment's more thought, Charles knew he would have to set it aside. He couldn't think about something like that when the outcome of so much more rested upon them. 

In a few hours, they would take the first steps toward finding out. 

Charles swiped his hands over his face and fell back, head resting against the back of the chair, staring up at the ceiling. He lost himself in its patterns as he thought of what he might find in Erik's mind and how he might deal with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone was curious, inspiration for their underground Gatsby-mansion came from the Runaways' Hostel. And Gatsby.
> 
> As always, find us on tumblr. We're active, somewhat: [die--gretchenfrage.tumblr.com](http://die--gretchenfrage.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional warning: this chapter contains depictions of antisemitism, Kristallnacht, and the Warsaw ghetto.

Time had little meaning underground. Charles only knew it had to be passing because, gradually, his stomach began to feel more empty while he thought. At the same time, painful, prickling sensations in his legs were the first signs that the serum was beginning to wear off. More awareness began to trickle in, slowly, his range gradually re-expanding and becoming more focused. He could feel, vaguely, several different minds in the direction of the east wing, including the familiar patterns of Pietro and Alex.

And another point further up the hallway, almost familiar but for a crackle of static and white noise surrounding it like a haze.

As the sensations became stronger, Charles felt relief so powerful he could barely move. He set aside the books he'd taken down to pass the time and folded himself back against the chair, closing his eyes. Even the pain was welcome. It was strange to feel anything at all in his legs, whether it was imagined or not. 

As soon as he could, he let himself float. 

His mind slipped into Alex first, angry and bitter, frustrated with the other members of the Brotherhood who knew little more than he did about what Erik should want with Charles.

Pietro was far calmer, but even he had the building sense of worry overtaking his mind. It wouldn't do to tip them off now, as they would only worry for his sake, but Charles did his best to brush a vague sense of calm against them. 

After that he skimmed over the others. Victor had just finished cleaning. Astra and Pyro were in conversation over their new guests. Aireo had gotten bored of them. 

Charles drew away and expanded farther up through the house, and up and up, searching, but just as Erik said, he caught only the light flutters of instinct, of vision, action and reaction, of animals. They really were in the middle of nowhere. 

And then there was Erik. 

Charles had deliberately saved him for last, waited until he was strong enough, because there was something different about Erik now. 

That static. Charles could hear it as he drew closer, and closer still he could _feel_ it. Buzzing. Vibrating. He brushed against his mind, so subtly, and recoiled with a shock. It felt like touching an electric fence. 

Confounded, he tried again, flattening himself, making his intent as small as he could, moving over Erik until he could feel the fluctuating power. He tried slipping in at an angle and managed to avoid the instant backlash, but the static increased. There was a mind there, he could feel it, but it was obscured somehow. 

Carefully, Charles tried speaking. _'I'm ready.'_

The static rippled and grew louder for a moment before dimming, but not disappearing entirely. Erik's mind had always been somewhat chaotic and with a deep, deep well of rage that Charles hadn't quite dared to delve into fully, but this was something else. Trying to touch Erik's mind like this was like attempting to listen to a fragile, weak radio signal being drowned out by interference.

Charles realized that that was exactly what it was. Something was scrambling the projected thought waves he could normally pick up so easily. He could feel fear and determination, but little of the exact content Erik was thinking.

And then the point of static began to move, drawing closer to Charles' position in the library and becoming louder by sheer proximity. 

Erik reappeared in the doorway and warily crossed the room. "...I thought I felt something. I take it your abilities have returned?"

"Yes," Charles blinked. "Did you hear me? I couldn't tell. Your mind is...obscured somehow, like a barrier, something...." But Erik had mentioned he'd learned how to close his mind. Charles felt again, brushing a little more directly against Erik, making the touch soft and gentle, unsure as to whether that would have an effect. It didn't. "It's like you're on a frequency I can't tune into. I'm getting glimpses, but..." Charles was too astonished to be particularly offended.

Erik nodded. He took a short detour to the nearest table, retrieved one of the chairs, and brought it closer to Charles. He took a seat, although he looked uncertain about the wisdom of his own decision to go forward with this. "Localized magnetic fields," he explained. "I discovered the secondary effect by accident. We tried recruiting another telepath at one point, and she complained that she could never hear anyone when I was around, that trying to listen was like hitting loud static."

Charles' eyes widened. "Faraday's Law. Erik, you're creating an alternating current, possibly more. Forget the generator, you could light up this whole building if you wanted to." Charles blinked. "Hell, you could do more than that. You're powerful enough." His thoughts were racing with the possibilities. This wasn't a secondary power. In truth, he'd always wondered. He'd seen the way Erik could propel himself through the air and knew he had to be creating possibly a diamagnetic field of some sort, but in those early days Erik was only beginning to test the limits of what he could do. 

Finally, Charles sat back, realizing he'd been leaning forward, face too open and too excited when Erik had already been in an uncomfortable state. 

"...I could," Erik admitted. "Before we got the generator operational, our temporary solution was to have me power up a few batteries that could be used for simple things, while we relied on wood fires for heat and oil lanterns for lighting. I've experimented a bit, but a lot of things are simply too tiring for me to have much desire to utilize them."

Erik shifted in his chair. "I can't shut it off entirely, so there's no point in asking. We've had to move all the sensitive equipment to the east wing to avoid damage."

Charles almost laughed. He'd gotten so much of his enthusiasm back, finally feeling like himself again. He tried to calm for Erik's sake, folding his hands in his lap and giving the other man a warm smile instead. Now that they were closer, and now that Erik wasn't fighting him unconsciously, Charles could feel fractions of unease coming through the static. Erik was nervous. 

"I will keep my word," Charles said, aloud. Curious as he was, he did not try to delve deeper before Erik let him. "I will not harm you, and I will not alter your mind."

Erik exhaled slowly. His paranoia was clearly fighting against what he knew about Charles - that he was a man of integrity. More integrity that Erik, certainly, who would be sorely tempted to take advantage of any weakness if it ensured his own survival and protected his own kind. "You're going to have to touch me to get a better connection. I don't think you're going to be able to see what you need to through the static."

Charles scooted closer. He would take Erik's word for it. It would probably be more unsettling for Erik if he tried otherwise. He reached out and took hold of Erik's wrist before he brought it to himself. Erik was warm. Charles could feel his blood pulsing beneath the skin. He allowed his fingers to trail up Erik's forearm before he went any further. Just touch. He gave Erik a small smile and caught a flash of that old familiar heat from Erik in return. Not just in his gaze this time. 

Charles could _feel_ him. And Erik was right, the static had dissipated. Without having to truly venture in, he got the impression of himself, sitting there with Erik's hand in his lap and smiling that coy smile, lips red and eyes fond. Charles felt his smile widen and he brushed a small amount of warmth back to Erik before he spoke.  
"Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be." Erik swallowed and let a thread of thought drift out to the tentative connection that had formed, trying to draw Charles in past the surface with its magnetic barrier.

Charles wasn't expecting the equivalent of static further in. Erik's mind had changed drastically since the last time he'd been there - the sea of violence had gotten deeper, turned a darker shade of red until the waters looked sleek and black, rippling with the suggestion of a deadly undertow just beneath the surface. The hole he'd seen before, a shaft punching down to a darkness below, had become a yawning void, frighteningly large and with an accompanying sense of vertigo. The winds above were chaotic, leaving swirls of emotion that crackled every now and then with light flashes from built-up energy. All impressions, rather than directly seen. 

Charles' vision cleared and he found himself in a blindingly white, sparse room. It took a moment to recognize the layout of the room, almost a replica of the prison blueprints Charles had seen when he'd broken Erik out in '73.

And there was Erik, still dressed in his drab white prison uniform, looking a great deal thinner. Ill, even. 

Charles stood on shaky legs. He glanced from Erik to the window above, just the same as it had been. He felt like he'd just drowned in a well, waters high and walls constricting, pulled under the surface by something unknown, some suction that lay in the inky depths, and if so then this must be...not heaven, not hell, but purgatory. Charles breathed in the chill and shivered. 

"Your mind has seen better days my friend." 

"I'm well aware of that." Erik drew closer, and Charles could sense all of the emotions running through the man, and even some of his thoughts - relief that this had worked, fear still that Charles might yet harm him, concern and thoughtfulness about what he should show Charles to gain his understanding and trust again... and an ache in the center of his chest that was almost painful. 

"Ask me again if I'm serious about wanting to work with you, if you still have doubts. We both know it would be nearly impossible for me to lie to you here."

"Your words ring true already." Charles smiled in spite of the pain. This was not a happy place. Hurt, hopelessness, agony was infused in every corner of it. The pain here didn't lurk in the shadows. There were no shadows. It resided in the very light. For once, Charles tried not to block it out. Erik had accused him of that before and he was here to experience what Erik had to show him, to see what Erik envisioned for their future. Charles took a step closer still, glad to be once again nearly of height with Erik, if still just a bit shorter, and the pain intensified. It wasn't just inside Erik or the cell itself, it was emanating from him. Charles' breath caught with it. 

Erik took in the sudden tension in Charles' frame, then glanced around. "Ah. Yes, this... I found out it was much more difficult to escape the torture of this place, even after my body left the cell." Exhaustion radiated from him, and frustration. "But this isn't why you're here. I wanted to make you understand what I fear is coming, so you understand what we risk. How we have to plan and act to stop history from repeating itself yet again."

"Do you understand what I'm asking of you, Charles?" Erik asked. There was a measure of pity in his voice. "This isn't going to be a pleasant experience for you. For either of us. But I do believe it will make us work better together."

Charles saw now. This would be about the past as much as it was about the future. He felt a lurch in his gut because Erik was right, he did not want to _experience_ what he had only seen in Erik's mind before. And more since. He could refuse. This was, after all, his choice. Erik may be disappointed, but their focus _was_ on what lay ahead. And still...how could Charles back down? He had wanted to see inside Erik. This was a part of Erik's cause, his vision, ingrained in its very core, and for that reason alone it meant something to Charles. He took a breath. "I understand."

Erik waited a moment more, looking for any signs that Charles had changed his mind. He reached out and touched Charles' shoulder and their surroundings immediately went black as pitch. There was a falling sensation, but when Charles landed it was lightly, and on his feet.

Light and sound returned gradually, lighting up the memory like a hologram as it came to life. 

Charles was inside someone's apartment home. The floors were bare wood, rather scuffed, and the furnishings that he could see were rather meager. Dim light from the street lamps outside told Charles that it was evening, but little more than that.

Dogs began barking in the distance, and Charles could just hear the sounds of shouting. Shouting in anger, and in fear. A staccato of gunfire punctured the night, and people inside the household began to stir in response. One of the doors opened and two children cautiously peered out into the main room of the apartment. A girl with auburn hair tugged her wide-eyed younger brother behind her. They couldn't have been more than seven and five.

Footsteps thumped on the floor and a second door opened. A man with pale eyes and a well-trimmed beard was just pulling on a simple worker's shirt when he spotted the two children. He began speaking in German, but Charles could understand the words as if they were his own native tongue.  
"Ruth, Max, go back to your room. I'm sure it's nothing." The man was sporting a number of nasty bruises and several bandages. He made a dismissive motion with his hand and went to the window too look out onto the street. 

Whatever he saw must have alarmed him. He jerked away from the window and hurried back towards the room he'd come out of. "Children, get your things! We have to leave, right now!"

Charles backed out of the way, quickly. The figures ran around him without seeing him, and he followed. He wanted to go to the window, but if he did he might lose them. 

He had a sneaking suspicion he knew what was happening. The man he did not recognize, but there was an all too familiar squareness to his jaw. 

Charles focused on the children as they ran from room to room, gathering clothes and piling them haphazardly into small suitcases, deciding over toys before the man shouted again. They nearly forgot to pack shoes. 

Charles went around the bed to get a better look. The girl he did not recognize...but there was something in the way she smiled, just a flash of it when the boy put a wooden horse in his suitcase, that seemed familiar. The boy was so small...as small as the youngest students who'd ever arrived at Charles' school...but then the man called again, dashing into the room, closing their suitcases for them whether they were ready or not, and the three of them were out the door.

The boy looked up in distraction and, out of all of them, seemed to be the only person who could see Charles. His wide-eyed scrutiny didn't last long. A woman followed out the door behind them. She didn't even bother to lock it. There was no time, and little point.

The sky was very dark, but a flickering light began to illuminate some of the clouds overhead. Clouds, and black, dirty columns of smoke. 

The family turned and hurried away from the shouting. They'd packed as light and quick as they could, but enough supplies for a whole family still left all hands full. The children were pushed along in front by their parents while shouldering their burdens and trying to look for danger in every direction.

A few people ran through the dark, tearing down the street. It caused pangs of terror in the children every time. It was too dark, too quick to be able to easily discern who might be friend or foe.

After a few minutes without incident, the family took a wrong turn. On the street ahead of them, an angry crowd of people had gathered. Some of them were busily trying to set fire to what looked to be a synagogue from the markings outside the door, while others were smashing in windows and doors on other buildings up and down the street. The little girl, Ruth, looked on in particular terror as some of the mob started pulling people from one of the residences, including two adults and a small child.

She dropped her suitcase and the boy's hand and started running toward the crowd, heedless of the cries of her parents behind her. All she could think was that she had to help her friend.

A gunshot rang out and Ruth's small body hit the ground. She stopped moving. The little boy of the family was still in shock, not quite hearing his parents' screams and crying behind him. He started to take a step but was yanked off of his feet by his father.

They turned and ran, leaving their dead daughter and her suitcase behind.

Charles was rooted to the spot. 

He had to follow, but everything inside him told him not to leave the girl. His hands were trembling and he couldn't be sure how much this desire came from himself or from her brother. He took a step forward. The fire crackled. Gunshots rang out again, and Charles snapped out of it, turning to follow. 

He could still see them, three dark forms running toward the edge of the city. The eerie glow of fires lit up the coming of night down every street they passed. He could hear shouts and more gunfire fading into the distance. 

Somehow the family was able to avoid the other patrolling groups through the city. They caught sight of more burning buildings, more people being rounded up and arrested and carted off, more thieves smashing into homes and businesses and running off with what they looted, but never at a close enough distance to risk being caught or shot. All of them were crying, tears streaming down their faces, dirty from the soot filling the air.

They finally reached the edge of the city. Miraculously, no one had closed the gates. The family took one last glance behind them and began to hurry east.

Charles stayed by their side. They left the road and he was distantly grateful. 

No one said a word. The parents' quiet tears stabbed at him, but the little boy's most of all. Charles walked with him, as close as he could, head bent. He would have liked to reach out, to take the boy's hand if he wasn't being held by his mother and clutching the handle of a suitcase. 

The boy's sorrow rang out across the night sky, soaring up to the stars above before it came crashing back down upon them, and Charles knew there were stains down his own cheeks.

The light went out again. Charles became disoriented; there was a feeling of suffocation, not from water, but of earth, soil bearing down on top of him and filling his mouth and nose when he tried to gasp. For a few seconds there was nothing but searing, endless white, as far as he could see in every direction, cold and sterile.

When he dropped to his feet again and got his bearings, the scenery had changed. A different city this time - and he caught sight of several bilingual signs, in German and Polish. 

A young boy of about nine years of age, painfully skinny, was sneaking down the street in front of Charles. Despite his ragged, patched clothes and his youth, Charles recognized his reddish-brown hair and the shape of his face this time.

Erik was heading towards the corner market.

He wove through the crowd, keeping his head down and looking like he had somewhere to be so as not to attract attention. The crowds were thick enough, bustling enough, that nobody cared about one small, scruffy boy among them.

Charles followed and watched as he made his way from stall to stall, taking advantage of the quick moving bodies to pilfer anything edible he could manage to get his hands on. He did it in quick motions, the short bursts of time when no one was looking. All of it went into the knapsack he carried. It took some time to fill, and more to start bulking out the few pockets in his clothes. 

When he finally had enough, Erik skirted around the edge of the marketplace and into a side alley.

When Charles followed, it took him a few seconds to spot the boy. He was wedged into a small space between some crates, practically inhaling some of his ill-gotten gains. He paused in mid-bite the moment Charles came into his line of sight, watching him with no small amount of fear. Like a trapped animal.

This had not often occurred when Charles had viewed someone's memories before. Usually, only if he were speaking to the mind directly did that consciousness acknowledge him. Perhaps Charles was projecting a little stronger than he thought. 

He raised his palms in the universal sign of peace. "It's okay. I won't tell anyone. I just...." Charles thought fast whether he should try to explain why he was there and who he was. But that would only confuse the boy. This Erik was a memory; he knew nothing of Charles or the man he would later become. "I just needed a place to sit for a while." He rubbed his hands together from the chill and moved to an empty barrel where he could pretend to relax. 

Erik watched him for a long moment, utterly still, looking for signs that Charles was lying, that this was a ruse of some sort. When he failed to spot any insignia armbands or the bulge of a hidden weapon, and Charles made no move to do anything else, he slowly continued eating. His eyes never left Charles and he was clearly ready to run at the first hint that Charles was going to move against him.

"...you were following me, back in the marketplace." Erik's voice was very different at this age, both higher in pitch and, once Charles' brain had finished translating the German, more heavily accented. "You aren't part of the Judenrat, are you? Or the Ghetto-Polizei? I haven't done anything wrong!"

"No," Charles shook his head, doing his best to project calm into his posture. "I'm a friend. Not here to turn you in, or steal from you. I've seen your parents around, and yourself. I know you've been going through a hard time. I...well, I wanted to make sure you were okay." 

The boy continued to regard him warily, but Charles could see the way confusion overrode his initial panic. Charles glanced down at himself. His clothing had changed, become drab and more fitting to the style the boy himself wore, a part of the time and place. 

Erik finished off the piece of bread he'd been eating and got back to his feet. "Nobody's okay here. Look... I've got to get back, so..." 

He backed up and started walking back out of the alleyway. When he glanced back he wasn't surprised to see Charles following again, but he looked far more confused than worried. He wove back through the crowd, steadily heading in one direction.

It finally became apparent where Erik was going. An enormous wall came into view farther down the street, ten feet high and topped in barbed wire. Perched atop a nearby building was a tower with two visible guardsmen holding the narrow outline of rifles set against the guardrail. Erik looked both ways up and down the street to see who might be watching, then moved to a sheltered corner near the wall.  
He flattened onto the ground and crawled through a very small, very narrow hole meant for water drainage. 

Charles was left for one perplexed moment wondering how he was supposed to follow the boy when the memory stuttered and shifted and he found himself inside the Warsaw Ghetto.

Charles now realized where the smell had come from. If he had thought the outside was in poor conditions, the inside was much worse. His shoes sank deep into muck and he had to hobble out of it to get to the street. The buildings on this side did not fare much better, blackened with soot and dirt, much of their brick facades were falling apart. 

Knowing Erik could consistently recognize him now, Charles did his best to keep back, at a distance and out of sight as the boy moved down the street. It was difficult to follow like that as he couldn't hide in the crowd. There were fewer people out and about on this side. 

Erik made it a few streets in before someone whistled. His eyes widened and he took off running. Charles had to hurry to keep up with him and he ended up nearly running alongside a man in an official-looking greatcoat, one with a white band around one sleeve that depicted a Star of David. The man kept yelling at Erik to halt, and the boy never stopped. Erik lost the rucksack around one of the bends in the street, abandoning the evidence of his petty thievery. He slid on the muddy cobblestones and nearly wiped out before he made it to a grimy doorway and darted inside.

The policeman didn't pause at the door, just rapped his knuckles against the wood and strode right in. "Eisenhardt! Are you here?"

The same man Charles remembered from the earlier memory got up out of a chair in the corner and came to the doorway. He was malnourished, and there were more lines in his face, but he was clearly Erik's father. "Yes, sir? Was there a problem?"

"Max ran away from me on the street. I believe he's been stealing on the Aryan Side again." The policeman made a sound of disapproval against his teeth and scowled at Erik's father. "Bring him here and we'll turn out his pockets."

Mr. Eisenhardt nodded, radiating submission, and turned to go into the apartment's one bedroom. He returned a moment later, dragging an angry, frightened Erik by one arm. "...Max, is this true? You know you are supposed to stop for the Polizei. Have you been stealing?"

Erik glanced between his father and the policeman, then caught a glimpse of Charles where he was hiding near the doorway. He quickly became outraged, eyes flashing from the perceived betrayal. "So what? They don't give us enough food to feed a rat! Are we just supposed to starve in here, wait until we drop dead or get sick and die like Frau Lenkner? He doesn't care, he just pretends he isn't Jewish and obeys like a good dog, beating on the rest of us so the Germans kill him last!"

Charles flinched. He could hear the fear in Erik's voice almost better than the anger. It was so much worse when the boy was aware of him and he could do nothing to help. He was little more than a spectre on their doorstep. So Charles stepped in farther, just a little. Just enough to see. He tried to pull his presence back into himself, becoming smaller so that the boy would be less aware of him, but Erik had always had keen eyes. 

The policeman was not taking Erik's outburst well. Charles could see it clear on his face. The room broke out into disorder. The policeman grabbed Erik and yanked him out of his father's grasp. He got in one backhanded strike before Erik started fighting. 

The boy kicked and punched and tried to bite, completely outmatched by the far-taller and far-heavier policeman, all while his father protested. "Max, _stop fighting_ , you're only making things worse, stop before he decides to hurt you!"

The policeman threw Erik down onto the floor and looked like he was ready to start kicking the boy when a loud commotion started up outside. Other enforcers yelling. A second officer appeared at the doorway, flanked by two others behind him. "Eisenhardt family. All accounted for? You're to report to the square for deportation. _Now_. Take nothing with you, everything will be provided when you arrive."

The first officer smirked and turned back to Erik and his father. "You heard him. Go get your wife. _Move_." Mr. Eisenhardt gave the officer one more glance, shot a look at his son that very clearly articulated _don't do anything stupid_ , and went into the other room. He returned with the woman from the first memory. She looked sick and disoriented, like she had just been roused from sleeping.

The squad of officers began marching them off to the nearest square, where a few vehicles were already waiting and being packed with other families. Nobody had any belongings with them. 

Terror was radiating off of Erik, thick enough to choke, because he knew, like everyone else did, what deportation meant. No one ever came back from it. No one had any optimism that they were going to a better place, or that they were going to be provided for. The most likely outcome was that they were going to their deaths, and there was no matter of choosing how they were going to die.

Frightened as they were, the deportees eyed the guns of the surrounding officers - Jewish, German, and Polish - and decided that they would rather face uncertainty and a few more days of survival than face those firearms right then.

Charles ran along the line, desperate not to lose the boy. The name Erik was on the tip of his tongue, but Max would not understand. When Charles realized this, as though he could have forgotten in the heat of the moment, he fell back. Erik would not want to see him. Erik thought Charles had turned him in. 

He stood toward the back of the line, noticing as they moved that across the street was another cobbled together group of people, much like this one, and down the opposite street yet another. Charles saw Erik and his parents being loaded into one of the waiting vehicles, others climbing in after them, hurried along by the officers. 

He had to follow.

The rumble of the waiting engines caused the bodies around him to tremble. He could feel it as he climbed into the back of the next truck with the rest of the line. 

They were barely seated before the engine roared and the vehicle lurched forward. He could only hope he wouldn't lose Erik in the chaos, but the swell of panic he could feel ever present ahead of them told him he hadn't. 

They drove for only a short time, enough to get them out of the city, but as soon as they did, Charles saw their destination. 

The train.

Hundreds and hundreds of people were being packed aboard like cattle. Less than cattle. The overseers and guards wore expressions that looked more like they were watching diseased vermin being herded into boxcars. Charles couldn't spot Erik or his family in the crowd. There were too many people, too many pale and frightened faces pressed together. Some already had a resigned, empty look to their faces. They had survived a long time and they feared they wouldn't be able to fight any longer.

Bright light suddenly illuminated the scene in a flash, drowning out everything in a sea of white. Except... not everything. It took a moment to realize the world had tilted. Charles was laying on the ground, and when he blinked his eyes he could see the panes of glass in the ceiling, held in place by white beams, beyond which lay an uninterrupted view of darkness.

A soft shuffling noise drew Charles' attention. Erik was barefoot, walking a circuit around the room, sliding one palm along the wall beside him as he walked. His thoughts were a steady progression of numbers, counted steps, but with a growing undertow of hysteria.

Charles turned on his back and tried to calm his racing heart. He'd at first almost thought this was part of the memory, cold and sterile, that they had jumped ahead to the camp. He rolled over onto his side, trying to catch Erik's eye, but Erik paid him no mind. 

Ten years. 

Ten years he'd been down here, and Charles could feel it in him. It was overwhelming, touching Erik's mind like this. If Charles let himself, he could drown in it. 

Slowly, Charles crawled to his feel. "Erik?"

Erik stumbled for a moment at the sound. He didn't turn to look. The line of his back made it clear that he was _afraid_ to look. His mind whispered about hallucinations, starting to debate the pros and cons of giving in and trying to interact with them for something to _do_ , or whether that would make everything worse in the end.

Charles felt it when Erik realized he'd lost count of his footsteps. He sighed and walked over towards the cot set against one wall, then squinted and slid his hand against a nearby panel. Disbelief and despair washed over him. All the counter marks he'd left were gone, all the tallies of sleep cycles etched into the plastic with his fingernails. They'd replaced the panel during the last blackout session, after they'd put him under. Or perhaps he'd never done it at all. Maybe it was another false memory.

Charles felt his heart pick up again. " _Erik._ " He moved right in front of the man. "I'm here. Do you remember where you are? I saw the memories you gave me. You must have seen that." Erik should have been aware of Charles in his head. He should have, to some extent, been aware of the memories Charles was reliving. Charles had deliberately opened himself up to it. Unless... Unless Erik had gotten lost in his mind all on his own. 

Erik looked through Charles first, frowning. A tremor ran through him, almost imperceptible but for the fact that Charles was standing this close. Erik decided the hallucination wasn't going to leave by ignoring it, so he finally focused on the figure before him.

"...why are you doing this to yourself?" Erik started to reach out, then thought the better of it. "He's not coming back. I don't know how long it's been, but it's obvious now he's not coming back."

Charles couldn't breathe anymore. He could _feel_ Erik. The hopelessness, the _pain_ , and through it all, still, the spark of longing. So small, but it burned inside him and Charles, Charles was at its center. 

_He should have gone to Erik._ The thought lit up in him as bright as the pain he felt all around him. Everything hurt. It was in every inch of the room and it was in Erik, and it was physical. Charles imagined his chest caving with it. _What had he done?_

"Erik, I'm here." Charles felt himself sink, knees giving out slowly as he came down to Erik's level. "I'm really here." 

_Erik had wanted him all along._ And that knowledge made Charles ache. 

Erik made several aborted movements to touch him, a flash of fear running through him each time that his touch might make Charles disappear. This was an illusion he wanted to keep, unlike any of the others - strange substances oozing through the walls, or the grinning thing in the corner, or the bats in the darkness outside of his window, the vertigo from the notion that gravity had inverted, or the pervasive idea that he might now be with everyone else, in endless white boxes after they made it through the showers, despite the fact he'd seen the bodies afterward and knew where they ended up. Despite remembering that this was a prison, that he wasn't dead.

Contact, when it came, was rapid. Erik had barely touched Charles before yanking his hand back in alarm, only to try a second, and a third time. When Charles didn't vanish, Erik pulled him in and clung to him in a death grip. His heartbeat and breathing were erratic.

Charles felt like he was having the life squeezed out of him, but he held on. Erik was trembling and in fact, so was he. He couldn't help the overwhelming sensation that he'd caused this. 

"Erik, _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._ " Charles could barely breathe as strong hands dug into his back. Short hair tickled against his cheek and he dug his own fingernails into the scratchy fabric of Erik's uniform, but none of that was the cause. He felt wetness in his eyes again, felt it running down his cheeks. Droplets fell on Erik's shirt and he wondered if he buried his face there, whether the other man might not notice. 

Charles could feel something deeper, too. Underneath Erik's desperate hope and relief, his disbelief and joy at having Charles there, _actually_ there, was a seething, red-hot river. Molten anger. Rage at being abandoned, at being left in this box for so long that time lost all meaning and he began to wonder whether he'd ever lived outside of it. It clawed up and whispered horrible suggestions, all of the ways he should punish Charles for leaving him, for everything that had transpired. 

Erik only shifted his hold on Charles, and the telepath felt matching droplets run down his neck to turn the collar of his shirt damp. "Don't leave. Get me out of here. Please don't leave."

Charles shook with that much emotion directed at him in such close proximity. And all of it from this man. He clung as hard as he could, even when a trickle of fear threaded between them. It was his own, yet Charles refused to acknowledge it. 

"I won't. You can come with me. This is over. This is all over." Charles' hands curled in Erik's shirt. He wanted nothing more than to lift this man out of his mental prison. This wasn't a memory, not wholly so, anyway. Erik's subconscious had created this place, like the dark well Charles had first fallen into.

"Come with you where? Does anything outside even exist anymore?" Erik reconsidered. "...I'd ask if you're dead too, if they finally killed us all and this is what happens in the end, but I suppose that doesn't make much sense. I'd either be alone, or there would be more people here. Not just you."

Erik grew quiet. Even his mind started to settle, no longer fluttering around looking for handholds like a drowning man or having flashes of violent, intrusive thoughts. His focus was on touch, warmth and pressure that felt overwhelmingly strong and amplified after such a long period of sensory deprivation.

Charles didn't mind. He didn't want to let go either. He pulled back just enough so that he could see Erik and Erik could see him. 

Charles laid his palm against Erik's cheek, knowing here it would be welcome. "We're safe. No one is locking you away again. This, all of this, it's all over. Erik, _I'm in your mind_." His thumb swept over Erik's cheekbone. The light made his skin pale, standing out in contrast to the dark stubble at his cheek. 

Just the mention of being locked up sent a rush of anger through Erik, and no small measure of fear. The lighting in the room flickered briefly, but other than that, Charles wouldn't have known about the emotional upset had he not been able to feel everything. Erik's expression never changed when he stared back at Charles, never showed a hint of that anger. But a flicker of realization did pass through Erik's eyes when he connected the memory of the accident with Charles' back and his current walking state... and the knowledge that the serum no longer functioned for Charles sufficiently to give him his legs back.

The room around them didn't change, but the atmosphere did. The lights were, perhaps, slightly less bright, the air less chilly. "...I think you've had enough memories for today," Erik finally said. He was barely breathing, and unwilling to move; Charles was _right there_ and he didn't want that contact to be withdrawn, no matter how much it was making his skin itch.

"Yes. I think that goes for the both of us." Charles allowed his expression to soften, feeling the way Erik saw him. He smiled, just the smallest bit, just enough to reassure Erik. This was okay. Charles didn't want to move either. "Someday I'll take you into my mind where you can have tea and scones and sit in a sunny parlour." And, not forget. Charles could never make Erik forget. But maybe they could rest for a while. 

"...you know, I'm sure you offered me scones at one point when we were all at your family's manor, but I can't remember." A wave of nostalgia joined the ache in Erik's chest. He'd known that that period of his life, like everything else, was impermanent, and that he'd have to leave, but the memory of the time had stayed treasured. Erik's thoughts started to veer in a different direction only to be shut down quite thoroughly, turned into white noise as he systematically thought of as many random pictures and words as he could. He was conscious now of the way Charles would be able to pick things out of his head. He couldn't disguise emotions as well, and those were shaming enough without adding audio and video accompaniment to the mix.

Charles felt the corner of his lip lift. He didn't need to catch the thought to know what it was. People only evaded him like that for one of several reasons, and Erik...Charles knew Erik well enough to discount most of the others. Not to mention that he'd been thinking about the past. "If I offered you scones back then, Erik, you would remember." Charles' mouth pulled up even farther. He couldn't help it. "Unless you weren't interested in my scones back then, of course." 

Charles could feel a dissonance in Erik in response, an echo against the question that proved it wasn't true. A flush of color crept into Erik's face accompanied by a small measure of panic as he realized that he was cornered and too many of his thoughts had gotten through. His gaze flickered towards Charles' half-smile and that was another mistake, because then all Erik could remember for one moment was the way he'd left Charles in the library.

"...I was interested in your scones and a great many other things you had to offer not long after we met." Erik had still found Charles to be terribly naive and almost painfully optimistic, but that had been a fascination in and of itself. Having had so little hope and brightness in his own life, and from others around him, it was refreshing to find someone who could stumble into adversity and still keep smiling, keep hoping for a happy end.

Now Charles was smiling in full. He was all too aware how close they were. Far too close, to be sure. This was not how he planned on dealing with things. And he really should not be teasing Erik, not when.... Not when he remembered the emotions back then all too well, himself. And only just earlier. And, if he were to be honest, right now. If Charles turned, he would be practically sitting in Erik's lap. 

But this was not the place for that. Not in this room. And, with a pang, Charles honestly wasn't so sure if the real world was the right place for such thoughts either. 

"I am far too comfortable in your mind," he told Erik. Somewhere along the line, he'd let his guard down. 

Erik gave an exaggerated glance toward their surroundings then looked back at Charles and raised an eyebrow. It still wasn't close to the level of playfulness they'd had in the early days, but it was enough to bring back memories. Thoughts of when they'd been partners before, traveling to recruit other mutants, and the way they'd teased and pranked each other while settling into long discussions over chess or a pint at the local bar. 

"I'll take that as a good sign, despite the lack of scones and that fact that you finding this comfortable throws your sanity and taste into question." Erik was trying to keep the conversation light, but he'd caught the slight look of hesitance in Charles' face. The small feeling of hope was getting quickly withdrawn, sheltered before it got snuffed out like a tealight. That got a small laugh from Charles, but he was glancing down, pulling away just the slightest bit and attempting to reset his features.

"Yes, well. For the sake of my sanity, and yours, we should probably be heading back." Charles didn't want to let go, but he forced his hands to release their hold on Erik slowly, waiting for Erik to either do the same or pull him back. To be honest, Charles wasn't sure which he'd prefer. 

Erik let him go, but with great reluctance. He'd been observant enough to note Charles' discomfort, the small cues that signaled that he wanted contact to end. No matter how much Erik wanted otherwise, he had released Charles. That in itself was a positive sign, given the state of the rest of his mind, that he was conscientious enough of Charles' desires to act accordingly.

"We should. Depending on what time it is, I might be due in the east wing again."

"Very likely. We've been gone for several hours." Charles gave him a small smile in gratitude before he reached for Erik's wrist. He gripped it like he had in the real world, firm and solid. "Let me take you back." 

That was all the warning Charles gave before he pulled them up, up, up through the ceiling, into a haze of white static filtering through the atmosphere, growing louder and louder before it filled their senses and Charles was no longer aware of Erik's subconsciously projected body next to him. Instead, Erik was all around him, his mind a living, pulsing, _hurting_ thing, until Charles breached the cloud of static like breaking the surface of water. 

He opened his eyes. 

The room was completely dark. As their eyes adjusted, the dim light of the hallway could just be seen on the other end of the room, enough to give the contents of the library ghostly silhouettes. 

Small, glistening specks on the floor remained as evidence that light bulbs had once hung in the room's fixtures. Erik shifted and winced from cramped muscles, and one leg sounded heavy against the floorboards. A spiral of metal had twined up it, and another had wrapped around the opposite arm. 

Erik's power had reached out in his distress, even in response to memories, and pulled metal to him for self-defense and comfort. Erik glanced around at the mess and sighed. "...it appears I have more cleaning to do."

Charles blinked again. "I'm not...going to get skewered or anything when we do this again, am I?" 

None of the metal had touched him, as far as he could tell, but it would have been a close call. He did notice that his chair was sitting a little closer to Erik than it had been before. And their arms were still locked together. Carefully, Charles released him. 

He could feel the other minds in the mansion, all still accounted for minus Mastermind and Rictor. 

"I shouldn't think so, but we might want to reassess where we do this next. And secure a chair for you that I can't manipulate." Erik unwound the metal from himself and flattened it into a sheet. Rather than risk stepping on broken glass, shoes or not, he set the platform to levitating just above the floor and got on. 

Erik looked down at Charles while the telepath unlocked the chair breaks and began to wheel towards the hallway. The floating panel followed. "Charles," he began, then paused, rephrasing what he was going to say. "Would you like to accompany me back to the east wing? I know you didn't get much time this morning."

"Yes," Charles couldn't help eyeing Erik's strange mode of transportation as they moved, "Yes, I would like that. And I think it best that I inform Alex and Pietro that we have come to something of an agreement for the time being. We did leave on a rather poor note." 

From their point of view, anyway. For Charles, fortunately, it had turned out a lot better than he'd expected. Just out of curiosity, he checked to see if Victor was in a better mood. He wasn't, but from what Charles could tell after a subtle brush against his thoughts, that wasn't out of the norm.

Erik stepped down once they reached the doorway and were clear of the shattered glass. He swept along beside Charles, both of them heading for the metal door that linked the north wing to the rest of the house. "Charles, I have to ask. How much will they follow your lead? Pietro seemed comfortable enough that I'm not overly worried about what damage he might do, so long as he's entertained and occupied, but Alex reminds me of Aireo. I've decided to trust in your word enough that there's no need to hobble your abilities any longer to protect the Brotherhood, but I don't know about either of your companions."

"So long as we're not in danger, Alex will listen to me, but you will not have his trust until you've had sufficient time to earn it." Charles couldn't help feeling the rush of having his own power back in spite of the topic. "But no one in this little hideout trusts any other here implicitly, do they?" When Erik glanced his way, Charles put on his best enigmatic smile. "And for now, that will suffice." In spite of their agreement, he certainly didn't trust Erik fully, and he knew that Erik felt the same in return. This was simply the first step, but both were willing and that was more than they'd had in a long time. 

"That isn't true." When Charles glanced up at him, Erik continued quietly. "Pyro lived with his grandmother, but didn't want to endanger her with his activism and didn't have the funds and means to pursue his vision. He has both of those problems solved now, and gets to visit her regularly. Astra's estranged from her father and Rictor is an orphan. They were both living on the street when I found them."

The metal door clicked open when they approached. Erik dissolved the second barrier in advance. 

Charles softened a little. "I didn't mean to say that they actively distrust you or that they would betray you. I don't believe they would." But Charles had picked up on their uneasiness when it was mentioned that Erik could get 'out of control', and he knew that right now many of them were anxiously wondering what could be happening on the other side of the mansion between their leader and his old friend. Erik's footsteps echoed through the dusty halls as they went. Charles, by contrast, was nearly silent. They passed down long, deserted corridors before Charles spoke again. "Better not to have blind faith anyway."

The look Erik shot Charles clearly, if gently, said that he wasn't at all certain that was a lesson Charles had learned.

When they passed through one of the foyers on the east side Erik spotted a clock on the wall and swore under his breath. His pace picked up enough that Charles had to work to keep up with him, rounding corners until they came to a large room that had been converted into a gymnasium with a padded floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	5. Chapter 5

Equipment was kept on one side of the room while the other was bare, with plenty of open space to move. Pyro, Aireo, and Astra were all chatting while they waited. Pietro was hovering close-by, enough that the others were starting to include him in their socializing. Alex, in contrast, was cuffed to a heavy piece of weightlifting equipment on the other side of the room.

" _Amod dom!_ " Erik barked, and the Brotherhood members quickly broke apart and formed a line, standing to attention. Erik spared Alex a glance and, raising an eyebrow, unlocked the young man's cuffs from a distance before turning back to his students. "Just because we're starting late today is no reason to slack. Fighting stance, warm up with cross-body punches and front and back kicks. _Go._ "

Erik left Charles' side and began to prowl around his line of students, keenly observing their every move. He stopped Pyro in the middle of his set to bodily adjust his stance, squaring out the boy's shoulders and nudging his legs a little wider.

Charles looked on in fascination, wheeling a ways into the room but far enough to the side to watch. Alex came jogging up to him, clearly relieved to see Charles healthy and in better spirits, followed quickly by Pietro. Charles raised a hand to stop them. "Before you ask, yes, I'm perfectly alright." ' _Erik and I have come to something of an agreement,_ ' he finished in their minds, lips pulling at the astonished glance the two gave one another. 

"How?" Alex demanded, confounded. 

' _I can give you the details later, but suffice it to say that Erik is sincere in his overtures of a truce, and he has willingly opened his mind to me._ ' 

Pietro raised an eyebrow, mind running with the phrasing of that statement. Charles gave him an admonishing look in return. 

"You _trust_ him?" Alex pressed on. 

"I'm willing to see if I can trust him, and whether he will trust us." Charles glanced to their training. No powers. Hand to hand combat of some sort. "They brought us here for that reason and Erik has promised me that if, when all this is said and done, we cannot come to an agreement, then we will be released." 

Pietro looked a little more optimistic. "Sounds like a benevolent kinda guy," he offered with a shrug and even with his telepathy Charles had a hard time telling whether he was being sarcastic or not. 

Alex, however, was still filled with wariness. 

"If we can work together, it could be the very thing we've been waiting for," Charles added.

Alex sighed through his nose. He was losing ground. 

Meanwhile, the Brotherhood members had finished their warmup routine. Erik had pulled Aireo out of the lineup and was demonstrating a move with him. Aireo would move forward, mock-shoving or swinging a fist at Erik in slow motion, who promptly sidestepped and launched a counterattack with the heel of his palm, twisting Aireo's head back at an awkward angle. The pair demonstrated the move for the others a few more times, with Erik showing just how much the countermove put the victim in control of the attacker by virtue of putting him off balance.

The two separated, and at a gesture, Aireo came at Erik in earnest. The sidestep and counterstrike were almost too quick to follow, matched with a headlock and twist that sent Aireo to the ground and pinned him in a chokehold with a knee against his spine. Erik released him and they did it again. And then a third time.

It drew Charles' eye first, and then the others'. 

Alex had trained in the army and Charles caught the spark of a memory jogged within him. "How long?" asked without looking back. 

"I don't know yet," Charles admitted, knowing what was coming next. 

"Hank'll be fearing the worst, you know." 

"I know." 

"Maybe we can get the word out somehow," Pietro jumped in. "He'll chill out if he could talk to you, and the kids'll know you're coming back." 

Charles winced. "Yes, I think that would be best. I'll know soon." He glanced to the Brotherhood members again, watching them pair up to attempt the move. 

Erik didn't stop with having the Brotherhood members practice only on each other. He had Astra step up, fragile-looking when they stood this close together, and had her practice the move on him simply to prove one point: height and weight weren't deal breakers, and the counterstrike and pinning move were effective even on a very different opponent.

The three members started practicing on each other in rotation and Erik crossed the room to the equipment side. He shot Charles, Pietro, and Alex a curious and somewhat suspicious glance as he passed by, but he was trusting Charles. For now. After a few minutes he located several sparring pads in one of the lockers and returned to check up on his students.

Alex continued to watch as though he could divine Erik's intentions the way Charles might if he only stared and thought hard enough. They carried on like that for a few minutes before Charles spoke up. "Why don't you join in?" 

Alex shot him a look. "I already know how to do this." 

"Even more reason." 

"Not me, man," Pietro took two steps back, clearly wanting nothing to do with this in spite of not having been asked, himself. 

"Someone has to defend our honour." Charles' mouth turned up and Alex frowned harder. Charles knew very well the type of goading that worked on his students, and somehow it usually worked on the adults, too. Something about the impish curl of his lip and the spark of a challenge in his eye. 

It worked again. Alex sighed and took off across the great room. 

Erik had set down the pads he needed for the next round of training and turned to watch the progress of his three students. Aireo, as usual, was overconfident, while Pyro and Astra were more hesitant and careful. Almost too much so, to the point that they might need further training to boost their confidence and keep them from flinching at a critical moment. Erik sighed.

Then Alex's movement caught his eye out of the corner of his vision.

The blond walked right up and stopped, looking rather displeased about being there altogether, but he held out his palms with a sigh. "Need a hand?" he asked in his usual brusque way. "I've been volunteered to make the two of them not look like pansies." He looked back to Charles and Charles waved, smiling. 

Erik glanced at him over Alex's shoulder as well. The telepath's smile was just a bit too wide. Erik stared for a moment, and then a slow, wicked smile pulled at the corners of his own mouth. 

"Have you, now? I doubt you've trained in the system I'm teaching them, so help in direct instruction would only have so much benefit. I might have to train them out of bad habits later."

The three Brotherhood members had paused in their practice, sensing that something was up now that their least trusted guest was talking directly to their leader. Erik grinned at Alex. "Perhaps they could use a demonstration. A little inspiration to practice harder. How are you at sparring?"

Alex shrugged, not particularly liking the show Erik was putting on. He looked rankled, but it was only in his face. The rest of him was firmly under control. "Not the best, But not too bad either."

Charles' smile turned wry. Alex had never been a show off, but he'd always been confident. He felt a nudge from Pietro, who waggled his eyebrows. 

"Bet your bacon at breakfast tomorrow blondie's gonna get his face kicked in?" 

Charles waved him off. 

"Sparring gear or no gear, your choice." The three Brotherhood members had now copped to the fact that something was up; they'd stopped practicing and were staring instead, at Erik and Alex facing off. Astra leaned up to whisper something in Pyro's ear, and he grinned and nodded.

"Take 'im down, Ares!" she cheered. When Erik turned to give her an incredulous stare, she blushed and ducked her head, her legs locked just a little straighter. "...uh. I mean, sir."

Charles' eyebrows shot up. 

"No gear." Alex was getting a little miffed now. They had an audience and it was clear who the favorite would be. He took a half step back, just to get into a fighting position. 

Alex had never dropped the military techniques, just added to them when he and Hank would occasionally practice. Alex was by now used to having a two hundred and fifty pound beast man jumping on him. And they trained with their students, even the young ones, but it wasn't quite like this. 

Erik's attention turned back to Alex. Immediately after sizing him up, something changed. To the outside beholder, Erik simply adopted his own fighting stance, not quite mirroring Alex and with his palms open instead of balled into fists.

Charles was the only one able to perceive the way the static changed. The chaos and the noise in Erik's mind died down into a sharp, hungry ache. 

Erik launched into a series of feint attacks, testing Alex's skill levels and defenses rather than striking in earnest.

Still Charles sat up straight, attention suddenly locked on the two moving figures. 

"What...?" Pietro noticed his reaction but couldn't see what was wrong. 

Alex was dodging and blocking well. His movements were practiced and Erik wasn't doing any real damage. Alex stepped in for a swipe of his own, but Erik shifted easily out of its way and then Alex was on the defensive again. 

Charles didn't pay Pietro any attention. His mind was locked on Erik, feeling gears kick into place inside him as the steps and blows flew through the air, but there was _more_ , so much more. Charles could _feel_ it in him, something that felt a lot like the dark waters in Erik's mind, but it wasn't near the surface. Whatever it was, it put Charles so on edge he wanted to call the whole thing off. He felt something like a ripple, just the slightest disturbance beneath unnaturally still waters. 

A slight vicious edge filtered into Erik's expression, but that was the only warning.

Erik suddenly whipped around. His foot angled into a hook and caught Alex between the shoulder and neck before his guard hand could completely rise up to block the incoming blow. Alex stumbled, and Erik took advantage of his lost balance. He swept one of Alex's feet out from under him before he could blink, shoved with an open palm, and then pinned Alex to the mat, knee against his spine and hand on the back of his head grinding his face against the padded floor, adding insult to injury.

Erik looked positively predatory. This was no longer about showing off; he wanted to fight.

Pietro stared in shock. The Brotherhood members whooped and clapped. And Charles was moving. 

He wheeled as fast as he could toward Erik, fearing that hand would come down with his weight, throwing himself into it, crushing Alex's jaw, snapping his neck. Charles wasn't sure where the images came from, whether they were a part of his fears or whether they were coming from Erik's subconscious mind, but he had to reach them before it was too late. 

" _Erik_." It took seconds at most, but when Charles did, he was out of breath. 

Erik glanced up and locked eyes with Charles. It was a familiar face, but the expression and the state of Erik's mind were strangely alien. The fleeting images Charles had this time - his chair fracturing into pieces, delight and pangs of lust at his helplessness, a hand closing around his neck possessively and cutting off his air before another mouth claimed his - all were certainly coming from outside of Charles.

Erik stared at Charles for another moment, then glanced down and realized he wasn't giving Alex sufficient room to breathe. He released the blond and backed up a few steps.

Alex coughed. He flattened himself against the floor, trying to let his muscles loosen enough to move again. It covered the fact that Charles wasn't breathing at all. One of Alex's fists slammed against the floor and he levered himself up enough to turn over. 

"Augh, _shit_ ," Alex groaned. 

"He wiped the _floor_ with you," Pietro crowed and Alex lifted his hand just enough to flip him off. 

All eyes were on Alex, except Erik. He was still fixed on Charles and Charles was fixed right back. 

Charles was aware he was breathing through his mouth, hands still on the wheels like he could possibly flee if he tried. 

Pyro and Astra were high-five-ing and grinning at one another, and Aireo was smirking at Alex like _he'd_ been the one to beat him. Erik ignored all of them. He was more preoccupied with watching Charles' reaction.

Worse, even with the static interference, Charles could feel Erik's interest ramp up as he noted Charles' fear. The fact that there were other witnesses present was the only thing keeping him from closing the distance and testing what would happen.

"...another round, or are you done for now, Summers?" Erik's voice was calm, almost flat. He didn't spare the blond a glance.

"'Mmm, good," Alex wrenched out, pulling himself up and wincing in pain. He looked like he wanted to both curl into himself and spread out again, not sure which would injure his back further. 

None of them had the _slightest_ idea what was going on. 

"Are you alright, Alex?" Charles' mouth was on autopilot. He was frozen. He felt like if he broke Erik's gaze, the man would - would... would what? Would attack him? Would jump him? With everyone here? Charles could stop him. That should have been a certainty now, but it wasn't. It _clearly_ wasn't. 

"I'll live..." Alex grumbled. 

Charles tried to clear the fog of adrenaline from his head. 

"Aireo." The redhead straightened up to attention behind Erik, his smirk faltering at the edges. "Go fetch Summers some painkillers and an air-pack from the first aid closet."

Erik finally glanced over his shoulder. "And I expect you all to finish the rest of your sets. Just because we have guests doesn't mean you get to skip your training routines. Astra, I want to talk to you later. And no, not about that," he added when she gulped in response. "I'll have an errand for you to run, if you can manage it. Nothing too difficult."

Charles breathed again. 

Pietro was trying to help Alex up and Alex was having none of it. "I heard you back there." 

"Oh c'mon. I would have bet on you, but I wanted to eat again - ow!" 

When Charles glanced their way, Alex was climbing to his feet and Pietro was hobbling about on one foot. 

"Charles, you saw that right?" 

Charles sighed, feeling the tension leave him by degrees. Aireo was returning with the requested supplies and Alex walked carefully over to meet him. The rest of the Brotherhood slowly got back to work, glancing back at Alex and Pietro and even Erik and Charles as they moved away. 

Externally, Erik was keeping an eye on everyone, making certain Pyro and Astra got back to their exercises and that Alex got what he needed from Aireo. Internally, he was paying little attention to anyone but Charles. He knew, he _had_ to have known, that Charles had peeked inside his head. Despite the fact that he wasn't looking at the telepath, he was tightly strung, radiating tension.

Even Charles was a little surprised Erik had gotten through so strong. His subconscious had practically _projected_ those thoughts through the static barrier of his higher functioning mind. That was perhaps why Charles himself had felt so shaken... It was _intense_. 

Charles found himself hovering toward the side, closer to Alex and farther from Erik, but just as Erik's attention never left him, his never left Erik. 

Alex had reluctantly taken the few first aid supplies Aireo offered, but it was clear from their sparse conversation that he was still enduring the redhead's gloating. 

Pietro, however, was not one to leave Charles drifting listlessly for long.  
"So hey, when do you think they'll be taking us off the juice?" 

"We'll have to discuss that," Charles could only force an apologetic smile. "I'm not sure if Erik will come around to it."

Erik was back across the room again. Evidently he'd decided to make use of the equipment he'd picked up for his original lesson plan; he held one large square sparring pad in place and had Pyro and Astra strike at it in turns, moving the target to test their form, force, and accuracy. The rage from only minutes ago was gone. Whatever had gone wrong during his face-off with Alex was, thankfully, not an issue when he was working with his students. As far as Charles and Pietro could see from across the room, he was being as kind and considerate as an instructor could be when teaching martial arts.

Aireo jogged off when he was finished with Alex and the three of them watched as he joined. They weren't a seamless unit yet, not by a long shot, but they had their strengths.

All this felt very familiar, and it was unnerving. 

Alex didn't say anything as he came to stand by Charles. He didn't need to; that whole debacle had originally been Charles' idea after all. Together with Pietro they watched in silence. 

Each Brotherhood member had their own particular attitude, but it was clear they all looked up to Erik in some capacity or another. Some a bit more than others - Astra was slightly rosy-cheeked whenever she was praised or given one-on-one attention, and she continuously tried to outperform both of the boys in order to garner more of it. Erik had to have noticed, but he didn't seem to treat her any differently, other than an added tolerance to account for her enthusiastic but fragile spirits.

Further into the training set, Astra beckoned Erik closer and murmured something when he tilted down to listen. He shook his head, and Astra began to pout slightly.

"Pleeeeeeeease?"

Charles felt the sweet edge of yearning accompany the plea and it drew his eye. Now that he'd given them all a once-over, he was a little reluctant to intrude beyond what it took to ease his own mind about each of them.

Alex had begun a quiet conversation with Pietro concerning the state of things back in New York, and it didn't take much effort for Charles to tell that he was worried about his brother even though the topic didn't center around Scott specifically. Charles was the only one who noticed the odd little interaction across the makeshift gym.

Erik shook his head again, and bizarrely looked to be a bit flustered by whatever the girl was asking. Astra tried again, wavering between whether to try to bargain or sweet-talk. "If I'm going to run a favor for you, shouldn't I get a favor in return? It's really awesome, and... you didn't seem to mind showing off before? With fighting, I mean."

"That's a little different," Erik said flatly.

Charles blinked in confusion, half wondering whether he was overheating correctly. He could feel nothing from Erik again, which seemed to be a good sign, and no ill emotions from Astra either. She was just the opposite, and projecting her nervous excitement loudly. Charles deliberately stayed out of her head, but cocked his just so and fixed his stare at them, a quizzical expression painted on his face. 

Erik seemed to sense Charles' eyes. He glanced sideways at Charles in a way that, on anyone else, could have been termed _nervous_ , then shook his head one last time. "No, Astra. Maybe another time."

"But..."

"I'll owe you a favor and we can discuss it later." Erik stepped back and that looked to be the end of the conversation. Astra was clearly disappointed, but she finally nodded and didn't push again.

"Now, if all of you are done, go wash up and we'll make dinner. Assuming, that is, that Sabertooth fixed the dining hall."

"He got it done, but you fried some of the stuff in the hall again." Aireo shrugged. "Toaster and the coffeemaker in the mini-kitchen are both dead."

Charles wheeled back into the group. His curiosity was piqued, but he decided to let it go. "You fried the coffeemaker?" he asked instead, glancing at Erik with a manner of affected nonchalance. It was becoming increasingly clear to him that Erik was having difficulty controlling his power when he was agitated. That could be very worrisome, given that Charles had the tendency to drive Erik to agitation. 

"Again," Aireo drawled, raising his hands in mock surrender when Erik glared at him. "Hey, not that big of a deal. Astra can just pop out and grab us a new one. Just try not to lose it near all the breakable stuff, ok?"

Erik bristled, but he didn't bother to deny that he'd lost control. "There's a _reason_ we moved everything into parts of the east wing. There wasn't even supposed to be anything in the dining hall."

"It's closer than walking all the way to the actual kitchen to just keep some stuff on the little countertop in there. We weren't planning on Saber and you doing your usual fights where we normally eat. Honestly, I'm counting it lucky we don't have to fix the lights."

"Alright, so, new rule." Charles jumped in brightly, "No more bloodbaths in the dining areas, yes?" 

They all looked at him as though they weren't sure whether to take him seriously. But Charles absolutely was serious. He had no desire to see that again, and if putting even the most flimsy boundaries on it might help, then well.... 

Pietro and Alex finally joined the group, a little more cautiously. 

Erik gave Charles a cold look, turned, and walked out the door. Charles wasn't the only one confused by the reaction; the Brotherhood members all turned to watch him go, some with more concern than others. Pyro moved as if to follow after him, paused, and thought the better of it.

"Mr. Xavier, I don't know if you should have said that." Astra scuffed one foot against the padded floor. 

Aireo snorted. "Well, I think it's a great new rule. I like being able to have coffee in the morning and not having to worry about those two trying to kill each other and hitting me by mistake while I'm eating." 

"Why not, Astra?" Charles only had eyes for her. Whether she was actually closer to Erik or not, she watched him more than the others. She picked up on things. If Charles was to learn anything about the Erik his old friend had become, her observations would be valuable. She wasn't looking at him directly, but he sought her eyes, so much sharper in appearance than her presence felt, inclining his head just so to catch them. 

Astra worried at her lower lip, but Charles had a gift for coaxing. Another approach might not have gotten much out of the girl, but quiet patience seemed to work. She took a few moments to gather her thoughts.

"He gets upset when he gets reminded his control isn't very good. I don't think he always had these problems, because he was pretty surprised by stuff too, after... well, after we started to form this group. He's not ever really talked about it, but it reminds me a bit of some of the people I used to see on the street. The ones who came back from Vietnam and ended up with nowhere to go, kinda like me." She shuffled her feet again, glancing away out of shyness. "They were nice too, but they all tended to act funny when certain topics came up, or something upset or frightened them."

"So he's crazy," Aireo interjected. "We already knew that."

"And you're a jerk," Pyro added with a glare. "But we already knew that."

Charles nodded, ignoring the other two. Pietro and Alex just looked awkwardly behind him. "You're right, in that he wasn't always like this. He used to have better control. But it was not the coffeemaker I truly took issue with." Charles rubbed his thumb over his lip, a thought creeping into his mind. _That rage._ Erik may have seemed in complete control of what he was doing to Victor at the time, appliances aside, but that rage had consumed him. Charles was beginning to see sparks of it flare to life in all of Erik's interactions. Ignited by battle... Stoked by longing... Directed by lust... Erik's thoughts back there, _about him_...

Charles shut down that train of thought. 

"I'll speak to him. Let's get dinner started, shall we?"

Pyro nodded. "Yeah, alright. Anyone got any requests? Otherwise I'm making grilled cheese again, because that's easy."

"I don't really care, so long as you don't burn it." Aireo stretched and wandered off towards a doorway that led to what looked like a makeshift locker room. "All I ask is that it's edible."

"I don't mind. It's nice to not have to do a grocery trip on top of everything else." Astra pulled a fake grimace and mimed carrying several heavy burdens. "I end up feeling like a draft horse, lugging all the supplies back here."

"The bane of a teleporter in a hideout." Charles gave her a fond smile. "We'll meet you in the kitchen. No running, I promise," he added when Pyro looked at them with just a hint of unease. 

Unfortunately, that unease only doubled. Charles felt it from Astra too, now, and he knew he'd said the wrong thing even before she spoke. 

"Nah, that's ok, I'll go with you. It's better if the boys take the showers first anyways. You never know who's a pervert," she teased, sticking her tongue out at Pyro. It was an admirable attempt to lighten the mood again, but the underlying message was clear: Erik hadn't told them to stop guarding their guests, so the Brotherhood members didn't quite trust them yet.

"Ok, fine. We'll try to make it quick, because I know you have to be hungry and you're going to wait to make me cook." Pyro left to follow where Aireo had disappeared, leaving behind one nervous but determined teenage girl.

Charles kept up his smile for her. 

"Grilled _cheeeeese, mmh,_ " Pietro broke some of the tension, rubbing his stomach. "What else you got in the kitchen?" 

"Some tea, I hope," Charles followed her lead and the two others fell in behind them. The kitchen wasn't far, and Charles could sense Victor a ways off. Erik's static too had removed itself from the near vicinity. "Astra, I have something to tell you and the others when they get back. Nothing you should worry over, but I believe you ought to know."

Her wide-eyed look said that, despite Charles' words, she _was_ worried now, but she went on anyway. "We've got a few kinds of tea, and coffee, and... I don't know, all the basic stuff. There's some chicken and hamburger in the freezer, carrots and apples because those don't go bad quick... all stuff that will keep for a couple weeks. You can make something yourself if you want, but Pyro _is_ a pretty good cook. He's never burned anything yet."

When they got to the kitchen, Astra took a seat atop one of the counters. Her legs dangled off the edge and kicked absently. "What... is it? That you're going to tell us? Because we know you know Magneto from a while back, it's kinda obvious from the way he talks about you and how he insisted on bringing you here, but you... both seem to be friends and not-friends."

Charles caught Pietro eyeing him after that statement as he went to investigate the refrigerator. It even got a note of interest from Alex. 

"Friends and not-friends. That's one way to describe it," Charles wheeled up to the table, turning to face her and settle in. Alex took up a chair across from him. "We were in the beginning, fast friends, I suppose you could say, but we had rather major differences of opinion in a crisis that, in the end, divided us. Divided our first band of mutants, in fact. I'll have to tell you the story sometime," he could see she was fixed on him and his allusions to Erik's life prior, "but.... But that's not what I wanted to tell you." He made himself more comfortable and leaned toward her just a little, hinting of conspiracy. "Erik and I made an agreement earlier. He has now seen fit to allow me my power back."

"Oh." Astra's tone was bright, and she smiled at the implication that some positive progress was being made. Then it sunk in what, precisely, Charles had just told her. She went beet-red almost instantly and tucked her chin, mortified and wanting to be anywhere else but in the room. Embarrassed or not, she knew she had to stay to keep watch on the group, but it was clear she wanted to melt into the floorboards and disappear. Her thoughts were loudly self-conscious, wondering just how much Charles had seen and heard, and why he hadn't let everyone know before she thoroughly humiliated herself with her thoughts in the gymnasium. "...o-oh. Okay. Sorry."

Charles smiled, he couldn't help it - it was good to feel this again, but his soft laugh wasn't unkind. "I'm not actively reading your mind, don't worry. Compared to some, you have very little to be upset about." Charles didn't particularly like keeping his mind to himself, but it often made people profoundly uncomfortable until they'd spent some time around him. He was tempted to look deeper in her thoughts just to see what she was so flustered about, but he could guess already and Charles was not prone to judgment. 

"You want to drive him mad? Get a song stuck in your head." Pietro interrupted, giving up on the refrigerator. 

"Do you do that often? Read minds?" Astra's hands curled around the edges of the counter. "Isn't that a little rude to do without asking people if it's alright?"

Astra's words of protest were spurred on by her own embarrassment, but another thought had immediately occurred to her. One that piqued her curiosity enough that she glanced up at Charles again. "...what's he think about?"

"What's who think about what now?" Pyro and Aireo walked through the doorway, hair still slightly damp and both in a fresh change of clothes. Pyro made a beeline for the fridge and started gathering up the supplies for dinner. He turned a knob on the stove and one burner crackled to life.

"I have something to tell you now that you're back." There was no way in hell Charles was going to answer Astra's question, not after that stint in the gym. 

That got their attention. All eyes were on Charles from whatever vantage point the young mutants chose to sit. Even Pyro glanced at him as he went about slicing cheese. 

"I now have my power back. At Erik's behest." Charles folded his hands.

Pyro and Aireo stared at Charles. Both were clearly thinking along the same lines. They knew what Charles could do, to some extent, which meant that Erik had decided to put a great deal of trust in Charles. Whether that meant their leader was having a lapse of judgment was anyone's guess.

Both of them scrutinized Alex and Pietro, then glanced at each other and Astra. "...Magneto didn't tell us that," Pyro finally said.

"And he's not said anything about you two, either," Aireo gestured towards Alex and Pietro. "Maybe he's changed his mind about all of you, but nothing really changes until he gives us the green light to take you off the serum and let you walk around without a watcher."

"I expected as much," Charles reassured them. "For now, it's an agreement between he and I, but I felt it was only fair to let you know." 

Still the Brotherhood looked warily around at one another, each not quite sure what to make of this. Charles expected to feel such concern when he made this decision. It happened often, and counted doubly so within the company of potential enemies. Alex shifted uncomfortably at the table, less sure about this than Charles was.

"And we don't get to know the agreement? It must be pretty steep if he'd letting you rummage through all of our heads." Aireo seemed particularly unhappy about the notion. "I'm sure Magneto has his reasons for trusting you and all, but that's a pretty risky bid to make for no apparent reason. Especially after, from what I can tell, you betrayed him pretty hard several years back. I wouldn't let someone who fucked with me get in a position to do it again unless they sweetened the deal enough to make it worth the risk. No offense," he added gruffly.

Charles let the warmth fall from his demeanor. "Exactly who betrayed who back then is still up for debate, and I would not take a statement like that lightly. But yes, the decision was not an arbitrary one. He has very specific reasons for allowing me this power back, and I'm afraid those are his to share if he so wishes. Suffice it to say, I have no intentions of harming any one of you, so long as you show me the same courtesy. If by the end of my stay, our agreement does not work out, I will return to New York and we will pick up where we left off." 

"So you wheel around Grand Central, mine everything worth taking from our minds, and then scoot off to a safe location to try to take us down. _Nice._ " Aireo crossed his arms and leaned back against the door frame with a glare.

"Hey, we don't know that," Pyro interjected. 

Astra nodded. "I'm sure Magneto has a good reason. You know how careful he is about missions. He wouldn't let us down like that."

"Everyone can lose their sense and get careless if you pull the right strings." Aireo shot Charles a dirty look. "Magneto ain't all there, much as he's done right by us in pretty much everything that counts. And after some of what I heard, there's no way in hell I'm trusting his judgment where Xavier's concerned."

Charles raised an eyebrow at that. "If you don't trust me, then you can leave or you can take it up with Magneto." The name felt strange on his tongue and Charles didn't like it, but Aireo needed to hear him say it. "Or," and he looked around to the rest of the group, "if you all feel similarly, then I may be able to convince him to let us take up residence elsewhere for the time being. I should mention, however, that the reason he brought me here was to form an alliance, and that is a goal I share. That will be difficult to do if we do not get to know one another." 

Astra, surprisingly, was the one who spoke up first. "They really don't seem so bad. I mean, think about it. Mr. Xavier _didn't_ have to let us know that he's been taken off the serum, but he did. He could just read everyone's minds to get any information he wants, so he doesn't really need to stick around anymore, but he is."

"Not to mention I've heard he can do more than that," Pyro pointed out. "You can, can't you? I remember Magneto mentioning specifically that he had to hit you with the serum first, or else you'd just take over our minds and make us do whatever you wanted. If you really wanted to hurt us, we'd already be toast. Before we even knew Magneto'd taken you off the serum."

"Yeah, yeah. Good guy Xavier," Aireo rolled his eyes. "Until he changes his mind about playing benevolent. Look, I don't know what your game is, and I don't know what sort of leverage you've got over Magneto, but anyone who just passively sits and lets mutants get taken and experimented on, killed, all kinds of shit, and doesn't do anything about it? Isn't a good guy in my books. Magneto fucking _cares_. And yet even when we were doing the right thing, showing the menschies that they better not try to hurt us anymore, I hear him worrying about _this guy_."

Now Charles was sorely tempted to take a look through Aireo's mind, but his attention was drawn across the table first. 

" _This guy_ was the one who stopped all out war between the states, the soviets, _and_ us, no thanks to your 'Magneto'," Alex snarled back, rising to his feet. 

"Thank you, Alex," Charles gave him a warning look, but Alex pressed on. 

"He's kept us _safe_. He's offered us a _home_ , taught us how to _survive_ , and yeah, when we can do something, we damn well do something." 

" _Thank you_ , Alex," Charles snapped, and Alex sat back down, glaring at Aireo. Pietro pursed his mouth and glanced between them. Charles turned back to Aireo. "You don't have to like me, or any of us. You don't even have to think what I'm doing is right. But make no mistake, if you ever pick up where you left off in '74, you will start something you cannot turn back from." 

"Newsflash for you: while you've been supposedly keeping a small handful of people 'safe' in that fancy mansion you're holed up in in New York? Some of us are actually doing the work on the ground to make sure the worst doesn't come to pass. Do you have _any_ fucking clue how many labs we've shut down in the last four years? Some complete with mutants as lab rats. Magneto busted me out of one of those," Aireo snarled. "Weapons programs, so-called 'boarding schools' and 'camps' with kids being tortured, their parents hoping they can quietly be forcefully trained out of being mutants, or at least pressured into pretending to be human and too afraid to use their gifts. We've crashed tons of accounts funding anti-mutant lobby groups and hate groups, too. And human news doesn't bother to cover more than a sliver of it, just whatever they can twist and spin to try to make the humans outraged at _us_."

"Aireo," Pyro began, a hint of warning in his tone.

"No, I'm done." Aireo turned on his heel and headed for the doorway. "You can hang out with the pacifist and his hippie students if you want. He's going to fuck us all over if he gets his way. Just have us lay down and take the abuse, or die. I'm not going out like that." With that, he stormed off down the hallway, leaving Pyro and Astra staring at the empty doorway.

Charles sighed. He was conflicted, and frustrated, and he knew it showed on his face. "I know about those labs. And I am very aware of the work you've done to destroy them." Charles levelled his gaze at the both of them. "I have seen them and I have shut them down as well, and the _reason_ you don't hear about it is because I don't make the news when I do." 

No one said a word. They all knew how the Brotherhood had made headlines in the past. They didn't often leave a body count, but the once was enough to incite fear in the human population every time they were mentioned over the airwaves. 

Both Astra and Pyro shifted awkwardly. Neither of them wanted to start an ideological fight, and they didn't know what to say to ease the tension in the room. Pyro eventually had to turn his attention back to making dinner or risk burning their food, but Astra chewed at her lower lip.

"Magneto says it's good that we get noticed, even if the news makes us sound like terrorists, because they have to cover enough of what happened that it draws attention to the fact that the labs and camps exist. I don't know." She risked a glance up at Charles, her gaze briefly touching on Alex and Pietro as well. "I kinda think he's got a point? If nobody knows people are being mistreated or that people are planning to do terrible things, nobody's going to band together and help stop it, because they won't see it coming."

"No, you're right," Charles softened for her, licking his lips and easing his posture, even giving her a small smile. "But it matters how you get noticed. The news may never paint us in a positive light, but if we don't leave casualties in our wake, if we can prove, verifiably, that we are here to save lives and cause no further harm, then people will see that. If we don't show that...." Charles sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't come here to lecture you." He could feel that she understood what he was saying as much as she was conflicted. 

Another brief silence followed. 

"Well this is awkward," Pietro finally broke it. "Can we eat yet?"

"Yeah, it's almost done." Pyro flipped the sandwiches over in the couple of skillets he'd set up. "I don't know what else you want with them, but you're welcome to whatever you can scrounge up in the cupboards or the fridge."

He glanced sideways at Charles' group and grinned sheepishly. "...and I'm... sorry, y'know? That we can't take you two off the juice until we get the all clear. I get the fact that you guys didn't want to come here, but you're being pretty nice about it."

Alex didn't look comfortable about that. 

Pietro gave a sardonic half smile. "The sooner, the better, is all I can say. Minus Fangs and Grumpy, you guys don't seem all that bad." 

"We feared the worst at first," Charles admitted, turning to the table when Pyro brought the sandwiches over, "but since Erik seems intent on keeping his word, lapses with metal instruments aside, I believe it's worth it to stay and hear him out." 

Astra and Pyro exchanged a glance. 

"He really doesn't mean it. You know," Pyro said, mimicking an explosion with his hands. "We moved everything over to this side of the house to try to keep it out of the damage zone, but it's kinda hard to tell what's going to set it off."

"Well, yes and no." Astra took a seat between Charles and Alex and picked up her sandwich. "Basically, it seems to happen whenever he gets upset or scared, from what we've seen. We guess and try to minimize it from happening, but sometimes it gets set off and we don't really know why."

That was much as Charles had begun to expect. He let it sink in while Alex and Pietro dove for the sandwich tray. "That sounds consistent with what I've seen so far." It also reminded him he needed to look into that plastic chair Erik had offered, or find a metal-free space the next time he took a jog through Erik's memories. Which was something Charles did not want to think about right then. Even touching on the subject left him feeling hollow inside. He paused, glancing at Astra as he snagged a sandwich for himself. "Do you ever get out? And the others? I know you said you have free time, but do you go...out, see the world when you can?" 

Both Brotherhood members stared blankly at Charles for a second before Pyro started to laugh. "...wait, wait. You think we're stuck here? We're sticking around because we've been asked to, while you're here. Normally so long as we get our training and chores done, and attend meetings when they're called, we're pretty much free to do whatever."

"Well, we're _supposed_ to study a bit, too, but we end up taking a lot of day trips or going hiking up top." Astra pointed towards the ceiling. "I can teleport us quite a ways before I start getting tired, even with my chores, and Magneto put together a sort of elevator for the others to use when I'm busy. It's locked right now, though."

Charles could simultaneously feel their surprise and a hint of amusement, and a little more ease at the notion that he wasn't constantly reading their minds, and he decided it was worth the blunder. "That's good to hear. To be honest, I had very little idea how the Brotherhood operated before now. At least on a day to day basis. You're rather good at staying hidden." Charles gave them a small smile of approval. 

"Where _are_ we, anyway?" Pietro piped up. "Can I ask that now that we're all buddy-buddy? Is that on the table?" 

Astra and Pyro exchanged a glance. Astra shrugged. "They're gonna figure it out anyways when we visit the surface. The only reason it was a secret was because we didn't know how things were gonna go."

"Yeah, I guess..." Pyro took a bite of his sandwich and chewed for a moment. "The house was kinda illegal and hush-hush before it even sank underground. We're inside a national forest. It works out pretty well because we're covered from the air and not a lot of people ever come by, and we don't need to patrol the borders because the rangers do that for us."

Still in the states, then. Charles felt Alex and Pietro pick up on it like little bells in their heads. 

"Yeah, but _where?_ East coast, west coast, north, south, Canada?" Pietro raised his brows imploringly. He could have the sweetest look about him when he wanted to, not innocent, by any means - Pietro could rarely pull off innocent - but sweet all the same. Charles knew he caved to it enough, himself, but Astra and Pyro glanced nervously between one another again. 

They were loyal. And inexperienced with these things. And Erik was in charge. 

"You can ask Erik later," Charles told him and received a put out look in return. 

"We just have to check with him to make sure it's ok, is all," Astra said with a nod. "He'll probably tell you. He might even let you come on a day trip with us, you never know."

"Astra wants to go to Honolulu next. I want to go look at the Lyndon B. Johnson Space Center. Las Vegas is also on the list to hit at one point." Pyro shrugged. "I don't know what you all find interesting, but you're welcome to come with us if Magneto says it's alright."

All of it rested on Erik. And neither Alex nor Pietro looked entirely optimistic about that in spite of the progress Charles had made. 

"Speaking of.... Let me take that last sandwich and see if I can't find him," Charles nodded at the plate. "We still have much to discuss, and I fear I've frightened him off." He smiled when Astra and Pyro looked taken aback for the second before they realized it was a joke. 

Charles could tell that Erik hadn't left the mansion. Faint static buzzed against his mind when he sent his thoughts out to the North Wing. 

Pyro nodded and picked up the plate. Rather than immediately handing it over to Charles, he took it back to the countertop and got out a tupperware container. The sandwich went inside, followed by an apple and carrots from the fridge before Pyro sealed it up and returned to give it to Charles. "He forgets to eat," Pyro explained when Charles raised an eyebrow. "Something about the way he seems to lose track of time. Astra usually runs stuff over and checks on him because she can get through the Vault doors."

"Ah." Just another way this young girl looked after Erik. Charles took the container and set it in his lap. "If you would like to accompany me back that way, I wouldn't hold it against you. I believe that's where he's run off to."

"We will," Alex broke in before the others could speak. If Alex and Pietro were going, that would mean they had to as well, but Charles could feel the deeper reasons for Alex's desire to walk with Charles. Much in his own way, he wanted to make sure Charles would be okay. 

"Okay, all together then." Astra looked a little concerned for a moment, and her thoughts were loud enough that Charles overheard them - worries about whether Alex and Pietro were expecting to be allowed in the North Wing. She didn't voice them, just stood and pushed her chair back in, then went to stand beside Charles. Pietro joined her and there was a pleased flicker of warmth when she shot him a smile. "Not too long, though. I still need my turn in the showers."

Pyro didn't look happy, but he was going along with this. "Just up to the doors, then we're coming back."

Charles had expected as much. He knew that even Alex had expected as much, but Alex was stubborn still. 

"On our merry way then," Pietro did his best impression of Charles' accent, and they were off. 

They did not encounter anyone else in the gloomily lit halls, though Charles could feel Victor's presence not far away. He couldn't help but wonder when they would see the other two again, Mastermind and Rictor, and how their investigation was going. He hadn't been able to read them at all, and so they remained a mystery. 

This side of the mansion was notably cleaner than the other. There was evidence that they had cleared out much of the rubble and even patched or reinforced the walls with stone or metal beams. Even if it didn't look precisely ornate, it at least didn't much resemble ruins any longer. 

As they drew nearer, Charles brushed his thoughts against the static, letting Erik feel his presence while avoiding the shock - a hello, of sorts - but Erik's thoughts through the static felt dull and cold, unreflective. They stirred to life very slowly. 

The main hall was in view before Charles felt anything reaching back - tendrils of power stretched out and the locks in the metal door separating the north wing from the rest of the house clicked and slowly swung open.

Astra gaped at the movement. "Did you do something? He hardly ever opens the door for me. Is that part of your mind reading stuff?"

"Ah yes." Charles smiled. "I suppose you could say I knocked, and he's decided to let me in. Just me, I'm afraid." He glanced to Alex and Pietro and gave them a flicker of regret. "I'll be alright." 

Alex frowned. He wasn't given to displays of nervousness, but Charles could see him working at his lower lip. "Just...be careful, okay?" 

"I will. You know me." 

Alex groaned. 

Pietro gave Charles a pat on the back. "Have fun, and get us our powers back, please." 

"I'll see all of you later. And the both of you," he nodded to Astra and Pyro, "thank you." And with that, Charles wheeled through the metal gate, glancing back as it merged seamlessly behind him, through the doorway, and back into the North Wing.

Back into silence. 

The door swung shut and locked behind Charles, but nothing else greeted him besides empty hallways as he made his way back through now familiar hallways. The door to Erik's room was closed, but the cloud of static wasn't hidden behind that wooden panel anyways. Charles followed it down the hall to one of the small rooms he'd passed by before.

He turned the door handle with some trepidation before pushing it back. The room's furniture was stacked up against the far wall, leaving a large open area in the middle. 

There was Erik, sitting cross-legged in the center of the room, quite literally. He floated a few feet off the ground, eyes shut and unmoving. 

He didn't react when Charles entered the room. He might not have even been aware that anyone else was there.

Charles paused. He'd seen Erik fly before, but this was something to behold. He looked...almost peaceful, but that wasn't the word for it. He looked, and indeed felt, as suspended in time as he was in air, and Charles recalled something he had once learned about the art of meditation - to be suspended in the moment, focused on it, this moment until it became the next moment until it became the next. 

Charles was hesitant to interrupt him, but he brushed his mind against Erik as gently as he could. He could feel that odd dullness again, strangely familiar... and finally recalled. It was the same numbness that he'd felt in the days after freeing Erik from prison, in the moments when Erik wasn't in the grip of smoldering anger. 

Erik's eyes finally opened, but when they turned downward, he was looking through Charles rather than at him. He felt his chair rattle for a brief moment, and then Erik's gaze focused and sharpened. "...Charles."

"Yes, it's me." Charles got the strange feeling that Erik hadn't expected him to really be there. For a moment, Erik looked the way he had in the cell in his mind. "I've even brought you dinner. Though it'll be a bit cold by now." He held up the container. When Erik continued to stare, Charles went on. "It's nice to see you have friends looking after you."

Erik shifted; his legs stretched out from under him and slowly touched the ground. "...dinner. How long have you been gone?" 

Erik's mouth thinned, and his gaze snapped up towards the doorway. Charles felt alarm radiate from him for a second, and something else Charles hadn't felt for quite some time. A second layer of noise flickered to life for a moment underneath the static, ghostly and transparent as a veil before it vanished completely, and Erik's tension dissolved with it. 

It was the same mental sensation that Charles had sensed, once before, in a man suffering from hallucinations.

Charles stilled. So did Erik. The way Erik looked at him, he knew he'd been caught.

Charles held out the container. "Not too long. But it's a little late to call this lunch." He waited for Erik to take it, to feel the solidity of it in his hand, but when Erik did, his expression didn't change. The static remained calm. "What did you see, just now?" Charles asked, glancing back at the door. 

Erik hesitated. He licked his lips. "A face from old memories. Someone dead. It's just a thing that happens." 

Erik shrugged, more uncomfortable with the fact that Charles had noticed than anything else. "I'm surprised you're back this soon. I would have thought you'd be thrilled to be in the east wing, setting new rules and sitting with your preferred companions."

"Don't be like that, Erik," Charles sighed. "You knew very well that I would come back, and why." Erik stared at him, unreadable, so Charles added for clarity, just in case he really was that doubtful, "Not just 'to set new rules'. Besides, your little camp is too loyal." 

That got little further reaction. Charles waited, and still nothing. 

"I felt how angry you were, you know."

"I know. One of the problems of being around you: you hear and feel too much of everything, and then feel cheated if denied such intimate access." Erik's words had little inflection, and Charles felt barely a ripple. Erik's emotions, for all intents and purposes, seemed to be shut off at the moment, completely missing. “I brought you here for an alliance, in the hopes that we can work together, but we're not to that point yet. I don't want you issuing orders and rules without consulting with me. It gives the wrong impression."

"'No bloodbaths near the dining areas'," Charles mused. He felt a tingle of anxiety at what Erik saw as a power play. To a certain extent, Charles could not deny that it was, but.... "Do you think that such a great imposition of your authority? I am not part of your Brotherhood. You invited me here, and so we could perhaps amend it. 'No bloodbaths in the dining areas, within my presence'. What do you think of that?" When Erik's eyes narrowed, Charles went on, "What sort of impression are you worried about?"

"That I am incapable of leadership, and rather than forming a working partnership, that you are going to replace me." The smallest curl of anger flickered for a moment, just enough for Charles to detect, like a wisp of smoke. "A few of them already have doubts about my mental health, which impacts their confidence in the decisions I make, regardless of my track record. Drawing attention to those doubts is only going to make them increase."

Charles sighed and dropped his head. "We're going to disagree on many, many things. ...but this is not something you need to worry about just yet. I will concede to stay out of your business on as many trivial matters as possible," Charles begrudgingly admitted. "Even your bloody spats with Victor. But I will not neglect to confront you when I need to. Will that suffice?"

"For now, yes." Erik was back to staring, but the theme of the conversation had touched on another recent memory - that of the sparring match he'd had with Alex, Charles' panic, and the subsequent embarrassment as Charles had reached a little too deeply into his thoughts. Or perhaps Erik himself had been projecting a little too loudly, but the end result was the same. 

Charles' cheeks colored as he picked up on it. Again. He cleared his throat. "Erik, that is very not attractive." The _nature_ of that thought had been...disturbing, to say the very least. And even so, he could feel the red in face growing only hotter. 

Charles hadn't picked up on that kind of thing from Erik in their early days, not...not to that extent. He had to admit, there had been something there, something in the way Erik sometimes watched him moving, bending over a pool table in a bar once, lying face down in a motel bed another time.... Charles remembered the way Erik had wanted to pin him down, to catch his arms and trap his legs and feel Charles writhing beneath him...and Charles really had to stop thinking about this. 

"Then stop poking around in my head," Erik snapped, embarrassment and tension finally breaking through the unnaturally still, flat surface of his mind. "If everything there is too painful, or ugly, or disturbing, then _stop looking_. Or are you expecting me to flip a switch and change my mind completely until it suits your tastes?"

Erik took in the sight of the flush spreading across Charles' face and glanced away sharply, but even as he did, another wave of possessiveness rippled through him, filtering through the static, accompanied by stray thoughts of punishment - of teaching Charles not to undermine his authority in front of the others again.

Charles wheeled closer, seeking Erik's eyes, refusing to be cowed. "You might as well tell me to stop breathing." He reached for Erik's wrist, catching it in his own. He felt himself rising above the memory of his neck snapping - imagined, but vivid. Just as surely as he felt Erik's thoughts Charles pushed his will back against them and Erik had to feel it, feel the strength of him. He wanted Erik to feel the power of his will, but he did not want to subdue him with it. Charles held his arm in a firm grip, one point of physical connection, even if Charles was not very strong, himself. "You can think what you want," he said finally. 

Erik bristled. Charles hadn't done more than push a little, but Erik remembered all too well what it had felt like when Charles had sunk his power into his brain and manipulated him like a puppet. Charles had little warning before Erik leaned over him and his free hand encircled Charles' throat.

"Don't play magnanimous. As you said, I might as well stop breathing for all I can stop some thoughts, but I refuse to let you threaten me over them or pretend that you're going to so very _generously_ allow me their existence," he hissed, showing a menacing row of teeth. "I haven't hurt you, and I'm not going to. If you find my mind so disturbing and can't keep yours to yourself, perhaps I should retrieve my helmet before I offend your _delicate sensibilities._ "

“I am not _threatening_ you, Erik,” Charles snarled back. He could feel Erik’s grip tighten and knew Erik could feel in return the blood pumping through his veins. “And I am not trying to control or dominate you. I am trying to tell you that you will not dominate _me_.” 

Damn Erik’s all too clear eyes. And damn Erik’s thoughts, reversing the perspective of his hand on Charles’ throat and the want and the rage he kept at bay. It was effecting Charles. How easily the memory of Erik’s emotions drew forth Charles’ own until he was feeling every bit the attraction they’d once had. That they had never acted on.

And on top of all that, Charles was getting angry. Angry at Erik bringing him here and then accusing him of trying to control Erik when all Erik could think about was doing the very same.

Damn that face. That mouth. Those eyes. That presence. Charles' blood wasn’t racing because he was scared. For once, he wasn’t scared in the least.

Charles lashed out, grabbing the back of Erik’s neck, and, ignoring the tightness at his own throat, he pulled Erik down. 

Charles hadn’t felt desire like this in years. In about four years, precisely. He brought his mouth to Erik’s, the brief moment of the kiss earlier flashing through his mind, but it was different now. This was rough, and Charles was going to lose himself in it.

He forced them to break apart. “My sensibilities aren’t _delicate_. I just want my neck in one piece.” 

Deep shock rippled through Erik, and no small amount of guilt. Deep enough that, with the added skin-to-skin contact, Charles could feel the emotions as if they were his own, and the accompanying flash of memories - failure to protect Charles on the beach that fateful day. Failure to protect Kennedy, whose minor telepathic and empathic powers had reminded Erik of his friend. Failure each and every time he tried to do what he thought was right, only to have to face Charles' disappointment and disapproval.

The fingers around Charles' throat loosened, then fell away numbly. "...I-... I wasn't going to-..." Erik's mouth shut and he exhaled slowly. "...I've hurt you quite enough already."

Charles was breathing heavily. There was a storm inside him with all of Erik's emotions, but he forced himself to pull through. "Okay." And one more time, Charles nodded, fingers flexing at the back of Erik's neck, feeling the softness of short hairs there. "Okay." 

Charles meant it. If anyone knew well the kinds of desires people suffered on a daily basis, desires that were never acted upon, it was him. It struck him, the difference between then and now. Erik had once been grudgingly accepting of Charles' presence in his head, and even though that had changed for obvious reasons, he still felt the hurt of it. 

Reluctantly, Charles let his grip fall from Erik's hair. Erik swallowed, but he didn't break eye contact. He didn't move back, either. His hands were on the armrests of Charles' chair, holding on to steady himself more than to prevent Charles from leaving. Lust still hovered like a dark red mist below the storm clouds of everything else. The back of Erik's neck felt cold now in contrast to the warmth of Charles' fingers. He wanted to close the gap, to touch Charles again, but was painfully aware that it might not be welcome.

Charles was sure that Erik could feel it from him, too. He was projecting and he couldn't bring himself to stop. He was getting lost in the moment, lost in the yearning in Erik's face, lost in his own longing. If they started something like this now.... Charles knew how bad an idea it could be. Almost certainly.... 

With a great amount of effort, Charles drew his hand away from Erik's arm, breaking their last connection and hoping it would dampen the emotions he was controlling so poorly. 

Hurt flickered through Erik's eyes, but also acceptance. He was used to a certain amount of disappointment, of rejection. He let go of Charles' chair and finally looked away, then retrieved the container Charles had given him that had fallen to the ground.

"...I have little idea of what time it is, but it wouldn't surprise me if you want to rest for the remainder of the evening without company. It's been an exhausting day, all things considered." He paused, then got to his feet. "I should have some things for you tomorrow morning."

Charles would have actually preferred not to be alone for the rest of the night. Evening, he guessed it was. But Erik's mind was as tumultuous as he might have guessed; Charles felt that much before the static clouded everything again. He could let Erik go, off to wile away the rest of the night, to calm down. 

He should let Erik go. But on the other hand.... Charles shook his head. 

"No. Stay with me. We can set aside politics for one night. And I'd rather not be alone." The corner of Charles' mouth lifted. "Promise to try and stay out of your head."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ”Menschies”, derived from German, is slang for humans.
> 
> Visit us on tumblr. We're friendly, we swear.  
> [die--gretchenfrage.tumblr.com](http://die--gretchenfrage.tumblr.com)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adding some fan art inspired by this story (by Piper). If you'd like to see more, [visit the tumblr.](http://die--gretchenfrage.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  

Erik turned to examine Charles, trying to gauge whether he was telling the truth or merely indulging in polite civilities. He slowly nodded in assent. "...alright. We do have one additional problem, however, in that I haven't cleaned up the library yet. I'm going to assume you're uncomfortable with talking in the bedrooms, and the kitchen doesn't have sitting room, which leaves us with the exercise room or a random storage room." Erik shifted, his expression turning thoughtful and wary. "...or we could go up, although I'm guessing it's going to be a bit cold right now."

Charles perked up. A smile touched his lips after he searched Erik's face. "No, I would like that. Even if you don't have an extra sweater, I would like that very much." 

Charles really was going to run out of clean laundry soon, his clothes would only last so long before he'd have to borrow something, but at the prospect of going to the surface that was the last thing that mattered, even if Erik looked somewhat hesitant on following through with his suggestion.

Erik gave Charles a small, ghostly smile in return. "If you'll follow me and give me a moment, I'll try to find something for you."

Erik walked through the doorway and turned towards his room, and it was then that a thought occurred to Charles: aside from the times he had asked to be pushed, Erik had continuously either walked beside him or in front of him, never behind him like a guard forcing a prisoner to move. 

When Erik reached his room, he glanced back to check on Charles, even though he had to have felt the metal frame of the chair following. He disappeared into the room and shut the door behind him. Charles could hear the cloud of static moving around inside and returned a few minutes later with a dark blue sweater that was certainly going to be too large for Charles. He'd donned a surprisingly undramatic grey coat to keep himself warm, and at Charles' glance another flicker of a smile touched his lips. "I do wear things besides cloaks, you know."

"Your secret's safe with me." Charles took the sweater and pulled it over his head. Indeed it was big on him and, he noted with a flicker of old fondness, a turtleneck. It was warm and comfortable, and Charles just hoped there wouldn't be snow. While national parks narrowed down their location somewhat, it certainly didn't enough for him to guess their climate. For all he knew, they could be in the Rockies, even if Astra and the others had a penchant for visiting Vegas. 

A warmth came into Erik's eyes at the sight of Charles in his borrowed clothing. He turned to head for the door of the Vault, secure in the knowledge that Charles wanted to see the surface enough that he'd follow. Even if he was following for the purposes of figuring out where they were, rather than because he truly desired the company. And Charles did, getting vague impressions of thought from Erik through the static as they went. The door unlocked and the metal barrier parted to open a path for the two men. 

Erik turned in a different direction this time, ignoring the door to the east wing and taking them to a large set of double doors to the south. They opened as soon as Erik was a few feet away, and led out to...

Perfect darkness. Or nearly so. Light spilled out from the main room of the fallen mansion, enough to illuminate a small amount of stone before it was swallowed up. Erik's footsteps echoed off the walls of what must have been a fairly large cave, judging by the sound. 

Charles passed the doorstep of the mansion, grateful that there were no longer any steps. He looked up, strained his eyes, but couldn't see a thing. He could only just make out Erik and the sound of his footfalls, and so Charles followed. 

"How big is this place? Have you ever lit it up?" Charles felt uneasy wheeling into the abyss, but he could reach out with his mind now and know that there was definitely nothing lurking in the darkness, watching them. Potholes, on the other hand, he knew to stay wary of. 

"Big enough that the house looks small in comparison." Erik paused, and Charles felt his mind circle back around until Erik was behind him. He began pushing the chair, exempting Charles from having to worry about where he was going.

Then Charles' eyes began to adjust. The darkness wasn't as complete as he thought. A patch of dull light fell across the ground, just barely noticeable, and spread in a long fissure from one side of the mansion behind them toward the direction they headed. The outlines of something bulky were just visible in front of them, and when Charles looked up...

Stars. Points of light were visible through the rift, winking in and out of sight as something obstructed the view. The wheels of Charles' chair clacked onto a metal platform, and then they were rising, the house lights disappearing below them.

"Oh wow," Charles breathed. 

The light became more pronounced the higher they rose, and Charles began to see what had likely occurred when the mansion fell. It didn't just fall, it _sank_ , which was probably the only reason it was mostly intact. This must have been a cave at one time, and the fissure he was looking at had probably not existed, or had existed only in part, until the owner had built his poorly placed house right on top of it. 

It was truly remarkable, the way the rock formed around them. It glistened with veins of minerals, lit by the night sky and carved into jagged edges. 

And then they broke the surface. 

The house's original owner must have wanted it not only to be hidden and isolated, but also to take advantage of the view. And what a view it was. Trees surrounded them on nearly every side, filling the air with the scent and rustling of foliage, but they dropped off sharply a few feet in front of the landing. The waning moon gave a pale view of treetops in the valley bowl below them - gigantic, stately sequoias reaching towards the sky, along with other native flora. The air was chilly now that the sun was down, but not unbearably so - not nearly as cold as the cave had been.

Charles could immediately tell several things about their location. They were still on the West coast, southern in fact, very likely still even in California. The trees and the relatively warm weather, given the late season, were the strongest indicators. While details of the landscape remained awash in shadow, Charles imagined he could make out scraggly ranges of hills in the distance. If that were the case, there would be desert beyond. 

Erik was sure to know that he could tell. Charles was being watched just as intently as he was taking in the environment. He took in a breath, thankful for the open air, and looked at Erik. "Thank you."

Erik nodded. The knowledge Charles received from this was another gift, another tentative extension of trust. "It gets stifling underground without the sun or fresh air. I understand that very well. I have to come up here on a regular basis because of it, and you're welcome to join me whenever I do. Provided you're careful about where you go, since I can't be certain to catch you if you end up falling off one of the cliff edges." 

An edge of uncertainty had crept back into his tone. Now that they were on the surface, Erik wasn't didn't know what Charles wanted. Conversation between them was often fraught with landmines, and Erik wasn't eager to create further tension.

"I'll stick close." Charles caught himself smiling when Erik glanced at him. He wondered if this was their way now, the easy compatibility they'd once had had morphed into tension and anger, but as soon as that was gone he was left to hope again. How easily he switched back and forth. By the look Erik was giving him, he felt similarly. "Let's move over there," Charles nodded to a clear patch overlooking the forest, away from the drop off and away from the lift. 

Erik was obliging enough to help him. 

Charles was tempted to bring up the investigation of the new mutant research lab, wherever it was, but Charles knew that whatever progress he could make in that regard, it would not be welcome right now. 

They paused and took in the view, Erik as silent as ever, but for once it wasn't necessarily a bad kind of silence. 

"I don't do much these days besides work," Charles admitted. "There are moments, but it's been some time since I've had a night to enjoy a view like this." 

"I have a similar problem, at least during the day. There's just too much to be done, most of the time, and not always things I can delegate, particularly since I have few people to delegate _to_." They continued on and the forest opened up around them into a clearing. Erik made a gesture, and some metal that he'd been keeping tucked away on his person flowed down his sleeve to float above his hand. It morphed into a blade and went skittering off, trimming away overgrown brush so Charles could get through and they had a place to sit. It slithered back up his sleeve when its job was done.  
"I really only come up here, except for missions. The chances of being recognized are too great, and there's simply too... much, in the cities."

"It's you who doesn't get out much, then," Charles observed. "I asked the others. They were a little shocked that I did, and told me they had no trouble at all with seeing the world. Helps to have Astra around, I'm sure. Which reminds me..." Charles turned to give Erik a wry smile, "What was she whispering to you about back there today? I've been dying to ask."

Erik turned, wide-eyed, and Charles couldn't see the rush of color to his cheeks, but he could certainly _feel_ the wave of embarrassment. "...I'm... certain the others told you, if they sent you back with food, that Astra often runs that particular errand, since she can get through the door if I lose track of things. She found me practicing in the exercise room one of those nights and watched for a while before letting me know she was there."

Charles did his best to hold back a smirk. "Oh, and...? She does seem rather fond of you, you know." He couldn't help it, Erik could see the mirth in his face, he knew, and Erik was probably getting redder by the minute. "She was particularly embarrassed that I could read her mind before I assured her that I'd leave her alone." Charles, for once, was enjoying the way the tables had turned on Erik. 

"I'm well aware of her crush, thank you so much for the reminder," Erik said tightly. "I'm sure you're enjoying the opportunity to laugh, given how often you've likely had to deal with students with amorous intentions. I keep hoping we'll find a new recruit that will take her fancy so she'll stop."  
Erik sat down on the ground beside Charles' chair, hands clasped in his lap. "...it'd serve you right if I did what she suggested. Although I'm sure she was suggesting it for her own benefit."

Charles' attention narrowed in suspicion. Erik had finally managed to wipe the smirk off Charles' face. Erik avoided his eye, resolutely staring ahead while Charles felt the buzz of his mind intensify. "What precisely would serve me right?" 

Charles could imagine few things that would serve both Astra's interest and lay down some perceived justice in Erik's mind. 

Erik was shielding as hard as he could. Try as he might, he couldn't _quite_ keep a straight face; there was a hint of a smirk, heated and mischievous. "I'm not going to tell you, Charles. I suppose you're just going to have to decide whether you want to gamble and ask me to show you.” 

" _Show_ me?" Charles raised his brows. Erik was just as inscrutable, so Charles shifted and sat back in his chair. He folded his hands together in his lap and fixed Erik with the most dubiously suspicious expression he could muster. He felt them slipping back into a strange sort of game. "Alright. I'll bite. _Show me._ "

"I can't up here." No hints leaked out from behind the solid wall of static, but Erik's quiet laugh sounded embarrassed. "Don't look at me like that. It's not anything dangerous. I just don't have sufficient metal or open, flat space for it." At Charles' continued stare, Erik looked away. "It's something I started doing to help with insomnia," he added with a shrug.

"Well now you have my interest piqued." Charles really was stumped. He had half expected Erik to invade his space, make some sort of advance, but this was something else, something that Erik seemed to be half proud of, half embarrassed with, if Charles was reading his teasing correctly. "Would you show me?" he asked again, this time more seriously. 

"...I suppose. Either when we're done up here, or another night if you feel too tired." Erik started picking absently at stray bits of grass beside himself; perhaps more than half embarrassed, then. "It occurs to me that we've got an unequal exchange. I know hardly anything about you from the time before we first met. Pieces, of course - that you grew up with wealth, that you met Raven when you were both very young, but very little beyond a few basic things."

"What, she didn't share with you all my embarrassing childhood stories? I guess that's a bullet I dodged right there," Charles mused, oblivious on the unfortunate phrasing until he noticed the brief tightness in Erik's features. Charles ignored it. He sighed. "There's a reason you're showing me your past. Comparatively, my life is rather boring, I'm afraid." He watched Erik take in his non-answer with a furrowed brow. "What would you like to know?"

"A better question might be: what don't I want to know?" Erik countered. "Did you always want to study genetics and end up as a teacher, or did you have other interests? When did you first become aware of your ability? I can't imagine that was _boring_ , suddenly finding yourself in other people's minds, and it must have taken some time to learn how to shield yourself."

Charles laughed. "Well no, that part was not boring. Most, though not all, mutants come into their powers near the onset of puberty. I developed mine a little earlier, around the age of five or six. I...have remarkably vivid memories of that time, and even younger. I could probably count back to when I was two, possibly even earlier, but the telepathy didn't start until then." He had Erik's attention now, and Charles found himself tentatively opening up to it. "It came to me slowly, not all at once. I would get senses about people. I imagined I could feel what they felt. In time I imagined I could even hear snippets of their thoughts. You see, I thought it was all in my head at first, but eventually I discovered it wasn't. And yes, it was a great advantage, being able to read the minds of those around me, but it was more than that, too. It was a comfort." Charles let his gaze drift to the trees. "Having so many minds, I could be sure of myself. I didn't have to _be_ myself if I didn't want to. And I didn't have to be alone either." He swallowed. "And then Raven found me, and I discovered I really wasn't alone."

Erik nodded, completely absorbed. Studying Charles like a puzzle. "What do you mean, that you didn't have to be yourself? Were you unhappy, during your childhood?" Erik's voice was soft, and without a hint of disdain. When Charles glanced at him, he couldn't detect any sign of mockery. Any hardship Charles might have gone through would have been trivial in comparison to even what he'd seen thus far, but Erik wasn't holding it against him.

Still because of that, Charles was reluctant. Erik may be open to it now, but he wouldn't withhold his judgment forever. To Charles' mind it was almost better that he believe Charles and Raven shared the perfect childhood, apart from being mutants in hiding. At least then he would be judged for something he wasn't rather than something he was. 

"I was not particularly unhappy, no," Charles began, resolving that he would simply have to carry through Erik's judgment whenever he eventually chose to dole it out, as this was the truth of it and Charles wouldn't be able to avoid it forever. "I spent a lot of time with myself. My father died when I was young, around the first few years I was beginning to discover my powers. My mother didn't take it well. She should have never remarried to the man she did, and she spent the rest of her life in varying degrees of a drunken stupor." Charles turned to give his companion a tight lipped smile. 

"So a different sort of orphan," Erik finally remarked with some sympathy. "You might not have had to worry about food or a roof over your head, but I can't imagine it would be easy to be rejected by a parent and watched them self-medicate until they are, for all intents and purposes, not there."  
Erik scanned Charles' face, but he didn't have the telepath's advantage in being able to discern what was going on beneath the surface. "I imagine it was a relief to find Raven and have some sort of companionship."

"Very much so." It was difficult to think of her even now. To Charles' mind, the three of them were like bright stars, spread out across the continent, each with a similar mission and yet somehow they'd been scattered. "I've heard less of her than I have of even you," he admitted and was surprised to find his throat tight with emotion. It had been too long since he'd spoken of her to someone who might understand. "I keep hoping that'll change someday." He made a vague gesture, wanting to go on but knowing Erik already knew. This would only bring up bad memories. She'd gone so suddenly, and stayed away for so long. "Before all this...before the hiding _really_ got to her, we were good. We were in it together. And I know she followed me in ways she shouldn't have had to. Even if I knew it was for our own safety."

Erik was quiet for a long moment. "We talked quite a bit, her and I. I don't know that her stories are mine to tell, however, and I don't particularly want to... talk about it right now." Everything. Erik knew that Charles would understand, particularly after he'd betrayed Raven out of fear for what it would have meant for the wrong people to obtain her DNA. All for naught, in the end - another shattered relationship, and mutantkind no safer than before.

"I gathered as much." Charles still felt a little uneasy about what sort of relationship she and Erik might have had. In all these years he _really_ hadn't wanted to pry, though he'd gotten so few chances to do so, and not out of any altruistic reasons. Rather, his reluctance was entirely for his own reasons. But even so, there were times when not knowing was just as difficult. He tried to put it out of his mind, tried to tell himself that that had been a long time ago. "We're not exactly optimistic company whether we look to the past or the future, are we?" Charles mused. 

"I've never been a very optimistic creature, unfortunately," Erik laughed. "Fate seems to have it in for me. Hopefully the same doesn't hold true for the rest of our kind."

A wry smile touched Erik's mouth and vanished just as quickly. There seemed to be little point in keeping up a facade when Charles would be able to see through it with little effort on his part, even with the magnetic barrier around his mind. "I'm afraid I'm a bit out of practice at how to carry a conversation that isn't an argument."

"Hmm, I'm out of practice in that regard with you, to be sure," Charles allowed himself the smile that Erik dropped, but it wasn't forced. "That isn't going to change right away, but..." Charles shrugged. "It's more than we've had. And Erik...," he waited until he had Erik's eye again. "for what it's worth, I am glad you tried. Are trying. Continuing to try, in the present tense." He let himself smile again, watching Erik watch him. 

It took Erik another moment or two of scrutiny before he decided Charles was being sincere and offered his own shy smile in return, a far cry from the confident, sharklike grins that Charles remembered from their early days together. "I know it wasn't quite what you were expecting or what you wanted, in the beginning. I hope you're at least confident that I was telling you the truth. If things end up not working and you want to leave, I'll let you go. I'd move the Brotherhood to a new location, and the loss of this base would be unfortunate, but it would have been worth it to try."

"I understand." Charles felt the warmth dampen on his features, but it didn't leave him entirely. He would not do such a thing with his home in New York, although the thought had crossed his mind on occasion. But Charles was stubborn, and Erik and Raven were the only ones he needed to worry about in that regard. He looked back out over the jagged hills. 

If he tried, he could almost feel as still as the night around them. Not completely, just as it wasn't completely still either, but Charles didn't have anywhere to be or anything to do but try to listen to the man beside him. This forced vacation was the first time he'd felt this sort of stillness in a long time. 

Erik went quiet beside him. While Charles was taking in their surroundings, Erik was mostly looking at him, trying to be discreet and failing miserably at it. He'd seen these same trees and hills dozens of times, while he didn't get the same opportunity to see Charles every day, much less by moonlight. His mind was churning away, from the sheer frequency of the static hum, and yet too tightly shielded for Charles to be able to hear what he was thinking.

They passed several minutes in companionable silence before Erik shifted and got back to his feet. "We should probably return."

"Hm, yes. I suppose so," Charles conceded with a sigh. He took one last long look over the expanse before he turned to a waiting Erik. Charles let him lead the way again, navigating back to the lift. Charles was already looking forward to returning, sometime during the day perhaps. He drew the chair up atop the platform with Erik, this time taking a moment to marvel at the ingenuity of it. Erik wasn't simply manipulating a few pieces of metal he'd put together. They'd actually constructed a working electric scaffolding that could be ridden from the bottom of the cavern to the top, not an easy feat even if Erik could mold it to his liking. 

It wasn't entirely soundless, but it was close enough. The platform clicked and hummed slightly, audible in the silence of the cave, but it would have been very difficult to detect the sound above ground. Once they reached the bottom, Erik pushed Charles again until they were at the door and away from the uneven stone floor.

The mansion was completely quiet. If the residents of the east wing were still awake, they couldn't be heard in the main entryway. Erik led the way back through the door of the north wing and locked it behind them. At Charles' curious look, he flushed and nearly miss stepped. "...right. Your request."

"This is really embarrassing you, isn't it?" Charles teased. He turned, deliberately cutting Erik off from the hall back to their rooms. "And yet you have me completely mystified. I suggest you take this opportunity and enjoy it. Especially while Astra's not around." Erik's face visibly souring was worth the little taunt. 

"Fine," Erik snapped. He turned left and walked down the hallway away from the private quarters, glancing back over his shoulder as Charles followed. "There's a condition to this: you don't get to taunt me with it later. If you can't agree to that, then I'm not going to give you further ammunition. Is that acceptable?" 

He turned into a room on the right. It was nearly an exact match for the gymnasium on the other side of the manor, right down to the layout: equipment positioned in one half of the room, while the other half was bare. While the other room in the east wing had had a padded floor, the empty side of this room was polished wood. Charles wheeled after him as Erik stalked forward. It was difficult to keep up, and just as difficult to keep the grin off his face. He made a considerable effort, if only for Erik's sake. Charles couldn't possibly imagine what he was about to do. 

"Well now you're just taking all the fun out of this," Charles began, taking up a spot near the edge of the mats. At Erik's glare, he relented. "But on my honor, you have my word I will not taunt you with it later." He folded his hands in his lap and looked on expectantly. 

Erik gave him a skeptical look as he toed off his shoes and socks and pushed them against one wall. His coat followed. Erik's jaw clenched and he looked away, then seized the hem of his t-shirt and tugged it over his head. He stalked back to the center of the room and, at a gesture, a giant metal ring that had been tucked away with the equipment jerked into motion and rolled until it hit his palm.

Erik began manually rotating it in one hand, walking in a circle while the ring spun. 

After a few seconds, he jumped _into_ the moving ring, his hands gripping it above his head as it rolled and his feet gripping it below. It didn't stop spinning, but he hung on and went with it. Instead of being kept in motion by his hand, he used his entire body to roll - kicking from the ground, arm and core strength, and sheer momentum. Vaguely, it resembled a dance, or a penny dropped on the floor, circling in on itself.

Charles' mouth dropped. 

Erik was using the force of its roll to pivot and turn, spinning in cartwheels at its center. He didn't control it with his power, but with his body. He turned on his head, hands stretched to two points on the ring until he took one off and pushed off the ground to gain more momentum. He spun and circled, flipping upside down and right side up, releasing his legs and somehow holding on with just his arms before catching himself again. 

It was... _beautiful_. Charles could see every line of muscle in his back, every clench of his abdomen. The low light fell over him and cast his body in moving shadow. He looked like a marble statue, but one in motion. 

Erik's eyes were unfocused. He wasn't concentrating on anything other than keeping himself and the ring moving, and keeping his hands from getting crushed on a downward spin. At one point he let go entirely, falling against the outside of the ring and letting the momentum spin him in a full upside-down arch before catching himself again. Seconds later he'd worked the ring up to a point where he could let go with his feet and only hold on with a single hand. It would have given the impression that he was effortlessly floating had the muscles in his arm and torso not been clenched tight with effort. 

A kick had the wheel turning and forcing him into a nearly horizontal angle within the ring. He held on throughout, then brought his legs in closer. The center of gravity shifted and spun him faster.

After a few minutes, Erik finally let the ring slow down and stepped out of it once it began to waver.

Charles sat stock still. 

"Erik..." Charles blinked, aware that his jaw was hanging open, "That was amazing." He shook himself a little. "That was...brilliant. Why on earth did you think I would make fun of you? You were - you..." He broke off before he made a fool of _himself_. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"I remembered seeing it used for strength training, a very long time ago." Erik shrugged, still flushed with exertion and embarrassment, but a bit mollified by Charles' praise. And more than a bit mollified by the way Charles was looking at him. "Repetitive motion and feeling weightless... helps, with some things, so I ended up trying to replicate the wheel from memory one night when I couldn't sleep to see if it was useful."

"Well," Charles raised his brows, "I certainly don't think it’s something you have to be embarrassed about." He shook his head and leaned against the arm of his chair, chin in palm, just taking a moment to marvel at Erik. ...and enjoy the way Erik reacted to his obvious ogling. Charles could see color in his cheeks, and feel the hint of it through the static.

More than just a hint; its warmth grew the more Charles looked, until Erik was leveling a similar gaze back at the telepath. Erik tilted the wheel at an angle and leaned against it, arms crossed. The position evoked a sense of ease and temptation, given the way it framed the tapering of his waist, but there was also something vaguely predatory about the way he leaned forward, even halfway across the room. "You understand, though, why I wasn't keen to give a demonstration for all and sundry when they were supposed to be concentrating on their martial arts training. Particularly simply because Astra wanted another view without having to resort to sneaking up on me."

Now it was Charles' turn to feel the color at his cheeks, but he inclined his head anyway. "Yes, I think I see what she gets out of it. Very distracting indeed." Erik's face spread into a grin and Charles couldn't stop the curve of his own lip. The low thrum of want rolling off the other man was infectious, but it wasn't just Erik this time. "If I didn't know better, I might think you were trying to tempt me."

Erik's grin widened and he started to laugh. "That sounds like a confession to me. Few people accuse others of deliberately trying to seduce them unless something caught their fancy and they were at least moderately tempted." 

Erik must have liked Charles flustered. A bit of the haze surrounding his thoughts thinned in his distraction, enough for Charles to catch bits and pieces - desperation and longing, hunger tempered with something more delicate and almost bittersweet, and a glimpse of how Erik was seeing him from across the room.

He looked like a nymph in Erik's mind, dark chestnut hair falling in wavy swirls over his forehead, skin creamy and mouth red and curled. Erik didn't even mind the chair. Charles might as well have been sitting atop a chaise lounge for all his mind interpreted it. Charles didn't expect the swell of emotion it all pulled from him in return. He was probably projecting back and he didn't even know it, judging by Erik's quick intake of breath. 

This really was becoming a problem. Charles should be thinking of this as a problem. But he just couldn't bring himself to do so. Instead, he rubbed his thumb against his lip in thought. "You might just be onto something."

Erik lowered his head until his chin rested on his arms, still draped across the ring. It was meant to look composed, at ease, but without an additional layer of fabric in the way, it was quite easy to tell how tense Erik was feeling, even without the aid of telepathy. 

"...and if I admitted my guilt, would you advise me to try harder?" Erik asked quietly. Hesitantly; this wouldn't be the first refusal, even if Charles had never actually voiced it in such terms. He'd responded before only to pull back in the end, and Erik hadn't crossed the line that said anything further was unwelcome.

Now, Charles was sorely, sorely tempted. Had been growing more tempted with every passing hour it seemed, in one form or another, while in Erik's company. He had meant to ignore this, but the way Erik was looking at him.... Charles' thumb stilled against his lip. He could feel his heart beating fast. He could feel the very same ache deep in his gut he was feeling from Erik. He had no idea whether they would still be on good terms tomorrow, or if this or something else would blow up in his face, and dammit he just couldn't make himself give a damn. 

Charles met Erik's gaze, nearly seeing double with Erik's mind open a little more, reflected back at him. He had no idea how his own eyes could be so blue in such low light when Erik's looked so dark under tense brows. 

"I believe I would," Charles finally admitted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to see a demonstration of Erik.s performance, check out this video: <http://youtu.be/MBBypvakUdI>


	7. Chapter 7

Erik froze for a second. When he moved again, it was to unwrap himself from the ring in a fluid motion and begin walking toward Charles, the metal loop rolling off to spin itself slowly to the ground.

Erik's teasing grin had completely disappeared, replaced instead with a single-minded, intense determination. He enjoyed a moment of towering over Charles, of the way it forced the telepath to look up and into the light, and then Erik slid to a kneeling position in front of the chair. Then it was Erik's turn to look up, grey-blue eyes pale enough to nearly resemble the cold sheen of metal. One hand rose to cup Charles' face and, after another moment of searching for any signs that Charles wanted him to stop, Erik leaned in and kissed him.

Charles felt it down to the bone. Or perhaps that was simply Erik's presence. 

Erik's mouth moved against his and Charles kissed back. It was eager and a little more breathless than he had thought it would be, but Erik had stolen his breath somewhere when he was stalking midway across the room and Charles hadn't yet gotten it back. Erik's mouth felt hot against his own, lips dry until Charles licked his way between them. He remembered this. It had been such a long time. But never with Erik, even if they both had thought about it during countless hours under the roof of some motel in the middle of nowhere. He reached up to grasp at Erik's hair, bringing him closer. 

Erik made a sound like a growl, somewhere deep in his throat, and pressed forward. And kept moving until both of them realized Charles had forgotten to set the brakes on the chair. They broke apart just briefly enough to stop its backwards progression, and then Erik pounced on him again, chasing Charles’ tongue back into his mouth.

Erik had been uncertain, even shy when testing the waters and gauging Charles' interest, but he certainly wasn't now. Whatever attraction he might have had years ago had had plenty of time to mature and change, tempered and focused to a point sharp enough to cut. Erik had had nothing but time for over ten years. Time enough to lament lost opportunities while losing his mind piece by piece in enforced solitude.

Charles whimpered. He barely recognized the sound out of himself, but there it was, and he did it again when he felt Erik surge against him. He was too hot, Erik's presence was too constricting. Charles was trapped between him and the chair, and yet it wasn't enough at all. He was almost shaking with the force of want that hit him, and he wasn't even sure whose it was. His hands curled in Erik's hair and it was just as soft as he'd expected, probably the only thing about this man that wasn't made of hard edges or lean muscle. 

When they broke apart, Charles kissed him again. He didn't want to stop. 

Erik's hands started wandering, sliding down Charles' arms, across his shoulders, stroking up his sides before his fingers tangled in dark hair. This close, with this much physical contact, Charles couldn't miss the ripple of disbelief passing through Erik, touch serving as a pleasurable exploration as well as a way of anchoring himself, reaffirming that this was happening, was _real_ , and not one of the fantasies he'd played in his mind again and again.

Erik broke their kiss only to trail his mouth along Charles' jawline to his ear, paying no attention to the scratch of stubble. "What do you want?"

Charles gasped. Had to take several breaths. That voice had gone straight to his cock, which, well...suffice it to say the nerves there were still active and making themselves very well known. He blinked. "Oh _god_. I have no idea." This wasn't planned at all, and there was suddenly heat in Charles' cheeks when he realized how awkward this was going to be. Something he _really_ should have thought about sooner, but there was Erik again, laying waste to his higher reasoning. 

Erik didn't help matters when he took advantage of the pause to lave his tongue along Charles' pulse line. He heard Charles gasp again and, when Erik pulled back to look at him, was sporting a sharklike grin. It sobered quickly. "I don't-... I need some sort of guidance, Charles. I can't guess what will work for you, or what you might want."

Whatever Charles might have wanted, Erik's mind had several suggestions of its own. Charles saw a series of lurid images in vivid detail flash past - Erik's mouth, and other portions of his anatomy, in any number of places, and perhaps surprisingly, the same situations again with their positions reversed.

Charles groaned. He felt weak at the torrent of it and clung to Erik's shoulders. "Bed. Now." This needed to be horizontal. It would make things much, much easier. He felt Erik shiver. They were so close he could have had Erik in his lap if he'd only lifted a little, and wouldn't that be the strangest thing. 

This decision was going to haunt Charles, he knew, but as Erik's eyes closed and he stole another kiss, twisting Charles up inside until he was imagining Erik over him with that look of hunger in his eye, Charles also knew he wasn't going to stop. 

Erik was reluctant to move back and let go, but he did. Eventually. His gaze burned a hole in Charles while he stood and walked through the door. It would have been easy enough to pull Charles along behind him, chair moving in the thrall of a magnetic field, but it would set the wrong tone. Erik was letting him choose.

Erik stopped at his bedroom door to open it, and Charles got his first look at the room.

There was hardly anything inside of it in comparison with the guest bedroom. A simple double bed was set into a plain wooden frame, with a wooden nightstand tucked beside it. A few books were atop the table, place markers sticking out from between the pages, and several maps and photos were tacked to the walls. There was a small pile of metal pieces in one corner of the room, a wooden dresser standing next to a small closet, and one rather unremarkable armchair.

Erik turned around and sat on the edge of his bed, watching Charles with no small amount of expectation and, underneath, a brief flutter of worry.

Charles noticed as he entered the room Erik's static was becoming less obtrusive. Whether that was because of their sudden closeness or his sudden emotional maelstrom was left to speculation. Erik watched him, as still as a statue, as he moved closer and Charles couldn't help but feel every inch of that stare. Up on the bed like that, Erik was looking down at him. Erik was in such a position often enough, but this time it sent a curl of anxiety through Charles' stomach. And yet.... There was also a certain attraction in that. Erik was nervous as well, Charles could feel it. There was no need to worry about having Erik's hands on his neck now, not like Charles had seen before. 

He stopped in between Erik's knees and lifted his hands to rest atop them, smoothing up the fabric to his thighs before looking up to Erik's face. Charles' mouth lifted at the lurch he felt in Erik's gut at the sight of him like that. 

"Help me up?"

Erik shifted just enough to lean down, slide his hands under Charles' arms, and lift the telepath onto his lap. There was a certain amount of awkwardness while Erik rearranged them, moving Charles' legs so they were tucked comfortably on either side of his hips. One arm stayed looped around Charles' waist the whole time to ensure he didn't lose his balance.

Straddling Erik's lap like that, they were at an equal height. Erik's hands slid down Charles' back once he was certain Charles wasn't going to fall, and then they paused at the hem of his shirt. Charles could feel warm fingertips just touching his skin underneath the garment, but Erik was waiting, looking at him for some sort of cue.

Charles had the strangest urge to admit he'd not done this, done anything really, while he didn't have his legs. He recognized this brought out certain anxieties, also because this was _Erik_ with him, and he wondered what had happened to that confident persona he'd created for himself at Oxford. Remembering that, however, helped to call it back if only by a margin. 

Charles nodded and shifted, letting Erik slide the rest of it up until it was free of his trousers before Erik's hands went to the buttons. Charles watched as they fell away one by one in a line up his chest until pale skin showed through. He watched Erik's eyes catch on it and a thrill of satisfaction ran through him. 

He felt an echoed thrill from Erik when the shirt finally fell away and Erik's hands started to explore. A thrill, and an ache that went bone-deep. The initial attraction both of them had felt had been fed over the years, methodically tended until it had transformed into something else. Obsession, perhaps - something unobtainable to strive for, always out of reach.

Except Charles wasn't out of reach anymore.

Erik leaned in and kissed his way along Charles' collarbone, gentle at first, then pausing at one shoulder and sucking hard enough that he was certain to leave a mark.

And there was that whimper again. Charles swore he had never before made that noise. His fist clutched in Erik's hair and he tried to shake the feeling that he was completely new to this. Because he wasn't, dammit. It was just. _Erik._ It was hard to believe that that was Erik's mouth against his flesh, that this was Erik's body pressed to his. Charles felt every bit of how much Erik wanted him, had longed for him, even when they were at odds. Even when he was on the other side of the continent. Even when Erik hadn't seen his face in years. 

Charles could feel that longing turn into desperation, thrumming in every electrical impulse in Erik's brain, making him want to leave that mark, and Charles, with an arm wrapped around Erik's waist, drew himself in even closer, sure that he had to be rubbing up against Erik in a very direct way. 

Erik made a sound almost like a growl, low and breathy against Charles' skin. His hands gripped Charles and then the room turned. Charles found himself flat on his back against the bed, staring up at Erik. Erik, who'd draped himself atop the telepath, propped up on one arm to allow Charles to breathe easily. 

Erik shifted, just enough to grind their hips together ever so slowly. He looked, and felt, torn. Part of him wanted to be slow, careful, uncertain how fragile this, and Charles, might actually be. Another part wanted to pin Charles down and fuck him into the mattress, making up for lost time.

Charles' face went red. He could _feel_ it. Erik surely noticed as well. And it was a strange feeling indeed; he'd almost forgotten. Charles got the sense, the echoes of everything Erik was feeling, even the sensations of their bodies pressed together. With the sharp contrast of his own body, at least parts of it, it made the sensation surreal. 

The breath was pulled from Charles as Erik rocked back down, rubbing against his cock with the reverberation of the same in Erik's mind. Charles gasped and hung on, clinging tight to Erik's shoulders. His mind was on fire with a multitude of scenarios, barely pausing to remember which would be currently impossible. He let his hands wander down Erik's back, feeling the corded muscle he'd watched only minutes before until he reached the swell of Erik's ass. He'd performed for Charles. Now this was for them both.

Erik looked down at Charles with half-lidded eyes, his mouth slowly being pulled into a sly, contented smile. He couldn't sense Charles' thoughts, but something of what the telepath was thinking and feeling was showing on his face and the way his hands lingered appreciatively. Erik slid against him in response, completely aware of the suggestive way it would make the muscles under Charles' hands contract, and the friction it would generate. 

"I can't read your mind, Charles," he finally chided softly. "If you want me to do, or _not_ do, something, you're going to have to tell me. Unless you're wanting me to guess."

"I...I...," Charles couldn't think. It had been far too long. He wanted this, but he'd barely formed a concrete idea of what 'this' would be, especially with Erik. Visions of Erik inside him flashed through his head, stuttering his words, shortening his breath. Erik keeping him like this, lifting Charles' legs up over his shoulders, holding Charles down, turning him over, spreading him out, laying over him and sinking into him from behind, it all turned into a jumble of ideas until Charles realized how much he was focusing on one thing - Erik's ability to hold him, to move him wherever he wanted. The thought made Charles' head spin both with a spike of lust and the shock of the realization itself. He'd never considered that a turn on with anyone else before. But Erik.... Erik, looking down at him like he was - fondly, confidently but also not confidently. Erik, who had turned his own body into an instrument as capable as the metal he wielded. Charles did not know how he felt about this. A very large part of him wanted to hold back. "Just. Get me off. I don't-... Suck me off." 

Erik's eyes flashed, a glint of blue-grey, and surged forward to claim Charles' lips first. The expression was unnervingly similar to the one he'd had in the practice room earlier that day - sparring with Alex before turning that same look on Charles. Possessiveness flooded into Charles' mind, strong enough that he could feel it with barely a crackle of mental static.

And then Erik's mouth was trailing lower, exploring and teasing sensitive skin down Charles' neck and torso while he slid back. Charles' trousers unfastened of their own accord, the metal moving until all Erik had to do was tug down on the hem.

He spared Charles one last upward glance, grinned at what he saw, and tugged the last layer of cloth down Charles' narrow hips, freeing his erection. Charles got a split-second view of a cheshire smile before it turned downwards and swallowed him whole.

" _Augh,_ " Charles threw his head back. The sensation, the _sight_ , nearly did him in right then and there. Erik's head between his legs, Charles' hands clinging to his soft hair, stubble scratching the sensitive skin of his pelvis, and dear god, that wet heat of Erik's mouth. Charles wished he could have thrust up, wanted to more than anything, but he gripped at Erik's hair instead, urging him to keep moving. " _God. Erik._ "

One of Erik's hands stroked over Charles' hip and circled the base of his cock to hold him in place. Erik wasn't practiced - clearly, from the way he kept adjusting the angle, the way he didn't seem to know quite what to do with his tongue, the slight scrape of teeth before he corrected himself. He more than made up for it in sheer intensity and enthusiasm. Tendrils of pleasure filtered through Erik's mind to Charles', and memories. Old fantasies. He'd thought about this quite a few times over the years, and having fantasy turn to reality was a bit of a shock.

It left Charles whining and writhing beneath him. Writhing without being able to move his hips or legs was a strange feat in itself, but at least it meant he wouldn't make this any harder on Erik. 

In truth, it was a bit of a turn on that Erik didn't quite have the hang of it. That someone like him would do this for Charles with such devotion was a little overwhelming. Erik's thoughts were driving him crazy and Charles realized belatedly that he'd never had a partner quite like this before. There were plenty that had been deeply attracted to him, and riding their desire in bed had always been an experience, but _Erik_.... No one had ever wanted Charles with such intensity. It was bringing him closer to the edge, and fast. 

"I can feel you," Charles breathed. "I can feel the things you've wanted to do to me...." He gasped. Charles wasn't sure if he was spurring Erik on or if he just wanted Erik to know. 

If he'd wanted to encourage Erik, he succeeded. Erik started moving even faster, and one arm snaked underneath Charles hips, bringing him closer and trapping him in place. Charles could feel the sharp pressure of nails digging into his skin and years of longing behind the heat and wet glide of tongue. Erik had wanted Charles since shortly after they'd met, watching and trying to guard his thoughts, never quite daring to make a move or a suggestion. And then their paths had separated, overshadowed by guilt from the accident at the beach. And later, when he'd been locked away underground.

Fantasies had been the one escape for Erik, when hope that Charles or Raven would ever come began to dwindle, and the reality of Charles beneath him, Charles in his mouth, was far better than anything his imagination had provided over the years.

It wasn't long before Charles couldn't speak anymore. He was gasping, overwhelmed by Erik's mind and mouth. His whole body flushed, tingles running down his neck and back and shoulders, settling somewhere at the base of his stomach. He was having just as much difficulty believing this was real as Erik was. And damn, Charles was not going to last long. Already, he could feel the rising climax building with every bob of Erik's head, every stroke of his hand and swipe of his tongue. The suction of his mouth was incredible. 

Charles gripped his hands tight, surely too tight, but he felt no resounding irritation from Erik's mind, only a flash of realization at the cause of the gesture. " _Erik_ ," Charles whined before it was too late. 

Erik's head moved underneath Charles' fingers, but not away. He tilted until he could see Charles' face and their eyes met. Charles felt his determination in the same instance: to watch Charles fall apart, to feel it and taste it. He wasn't going to release him to finish Charles off with his hand, and he wasn't going to slow down.

Everything in Charles tightened all at once. He could _feel_ the blood rush south. Every muscle in his body felt paralyzed. He couldn't let go even though he had to be hurting Erik. 

And then he was coming with a cry and a whimper. Heat flowed from his body and into Erik's, and Charles was drowning again. But it was good this time. So good. 

A twist of his heart and the sensation of triumph made him realize he was still in Erik's head. He'd lost the line that separated them. With the last of his coherent thought, Charles pushed his own emotion into Erik, trying to open his thoughts, his sensations to the other man just as Charles could feel him. 

Erik shuddered. 

Charles' hands were gripping his hair tight enough to hurt, but he didn't care. Not with the way Charles looked, or the bitter taste of him on his tongue, or with the projection of Charles' pleasure flowing into his head, and Charles could feel every bit of it in return. Erik sucked him clean, releasing him once Charles began to flinch from oversensitivity, and then crawled up to lay atop him again.

Erik stared down at Charles for a moment in abject fondness and lust, then kissed him. His tongue invaded Charles mouth - he wanted the telepath to taste himself, the evidence that Erik had caused him to unravel. Erik was still hard against his stomach, but for the moment he was content.

Charles, by contrast, was almost completely boneless. He kissed back, but let Erik's weight sink into him without any resistance, too winded to lift up even enough to meet the other man on his own. 

It took several minutes for Charles to get his breath back and calm his racing heart, but once he did his hand sneaked up Erik's back and into his hair again. Charles decided he rather liked it this length. When they broke apart, Charles saw himself reflected in Erik's mind, disheveled - wrecked, really - hair all a mess and lips red, glistening from their kiss, and a fond smile at his lips. Just the upturn of his mouth, barely there at all, but Erik could see it.

"...I've been waiting years for that," Erik said quietly. His eyes didn't stay in one place for long. He'd not had an opportunity to see Charles like this anywhere outside of his imagination, and he wasn't going to waste his chance. Not when it might be his only chance. Erik was well aware that, given Charles' initial reluctance, he might quickly change his mind and decide to never permit this again, or anything more.

Charles raised his fingers to Erik's temple to stop the thoughts. 

He couldn't think of a single thing to say that could face Erik's admission, but he wasn't really interested in speaking now anyway. His head was a perfect study in white space. Erik's thoughts bleeding into his own were ones Charles might have worried over himself, but for better or worse he'd decided on this instead. 

Erik's mind calmed by degrees and Charles' smile lifted. He brought his hand to Erik's shoulder and pushed, moving him back so that Charles could turn on top of him instead. Charles' small smile curled into a crooked smirk at the brief moment of surprise on Erik's face, and then Charles was kissing him again. 

There wasn't any question of Erik not responding. Charles felt lust flare in Erik's mind again just as his hands reached up to try to take control of the kiss, one tangling in Charles' hair while the other pressed against his back. Erik was clearly used to being in charge, possibly even resistant to having control taken away from him. The majority of the images Charles had seen in Erik's mind had had Erik taking a dominant role, even to the point of rendering Charles helpless in some capacity. A flicker of annoyance and unease passed through him when Charles moved Erik's hand off of his back so he could move.

Charles nearly laughed, a thrill going through him as he took this power away from Erik. When they parted again, Charles' smile was mischievous and even wider. He nipped at Erik's jaw, fondness and affection flowing through him while he began to work his way down Erik's neck. Charles enjoyed having him off balance. He liked it as much as Erik had liked watching him fall apart, and so Charles' hands passed his mouth on the way down, finding the dip in Erik's stomach and following it to the fastenings of his trousers. 

Erik's breathing grew noticeably short as Charles' mouth and hands trailed lower. There was a tension in his frame that betrayed his wish to turn them over and pin Charles down again, neatly overruled by his desire for Charles to continue with what Erik suspected he was going to do. Particularly if that meant the telepath was going to touch him more, and smile with clear enjoyment. The latter was enough to make Erik's heart twist painfully in his chest.

Charles' smile softened when he felt it, but his hands didn't falter. With a bit of wiggling he worked his way all the way down to Erik's hip. 

The bone was so sharp, jutting between the muscles of Erik's abdomen, that Charles had to stop and place a kiss in the valley there. He felt as much as heard Erik's intake of breath. Charles could feel his own heart beating just as Erik was trying to focus on the rapid patter of his. Both of them thrummed in Charles' mind as he pulled the layers of fabric down, gliding his palm up the hardness there to work Erik free. 

Erik took another hitching breath and the mischievous smile was back at Charles' mouth. He let Erik see it, catching his eye as he glanced down to see Charles' tongue darting out for the barest taste of his flesh. 

Erik's expression turned predatory, his lust-darkened eyes completely fixed on Charles' face. He was compliant for the moment, but Charles couldn't have missed the way the body under him tightened in response to the flick of his tongue. Or the way Erik's thoughts sharpened their focus. Erik's hands gripped the bed sheets in lieu of tangling in Charles' hair. He didn't want to ruin this by trapping Charles, and at the same time... He did want to trap Charles. He wanted to grab onto his head, guide him lower and hold him in place while he fucked his mouth. 

Even as the thought and image passed through Erik's mind he remembered that Charles was touching him, that Charles would be able to hear and see what was going on in his head. Erik blushed, but he didn't look away.

But this time, Charles was in control. He chuckled, smile wide and hot breaths of it brushing over Erik's skin. This time, Charles felt like he could fight back. Erik may desire plenty, but it was Charles' decision what to allow. He was finally beginning to feel like himself again. 

Without breaking Erik's gaze, Charles opened his mouth and slid his tongue over the head. He felt Erik's cock twitch in anticipation, just before he closed his lips around it. 

Erik made a choked, slightly desperate sound, and his hips canted upwards before Charles caught him and pushed him back down. Erik's hands clenched until the knuckles turned white. His reactions brought back memories of older days - when Charles had been a bit more hedonistic and social, when he'd had plenty of opportunity to take new, casual lovers and broaden their horizons. Erik was enthusiastic, passionate, and plainly untutored, at the very least in terms of interacting with someone of the same sex.

How quickly Charles' skill came back to him. 

One hand curled around the base of Erik's cock to work slowly in time with his mouth. The other curved over Erik's hip to hold him in place. Charles trapped him with that hand and an elbow, successfully pinning Erik unless he _really_ wanted to move, all without missing a stroke of his tongue.  
He kept the pace slow, reveling in each sound that came out of Erik's throat and each stray, desperate thought that ran through his mind. 

Erik couldn't stop watching. A line of lower teeth were just visible through his parted lips, and his breathing was ragged. Charles could see through the connection exactly what Erik was seeing, and as he was seeing it - himself, sliding and disappearing into an enthrallingly red mouth, the way Charles' hair was falling in graceful tangles, how it framed his eyes.

Erik finally couldn't resist any longer. His hands left the covers to cradle Charles' head. There was a slight tremble in the limbs, but he managed not to grip too tightly, or to pull Charles down.

Finally, Charles let his eyes close. A measure of trust, even if he could see it in Erik's mind. And _how_ he could see it in Erik's mind. Charles' image was framed with so much desire, so much emotion. Not all of it was pleasant, but for now that was faint and Charles could expect nothing less. He was living in the moment, and he sought desperately to bring Erik along with him with every stroke and every little twist and suck. He turned his head in Erik's hands, letting him feel Charles move, letting him know that he was welcome and that Charles wasn't afraid. 

But a sliver of fear did filter through the connection. To Erik's mind, Charles looked fragile, which was both unreasonably tempting and also... worrying. Erik was all too painfully aware of just how breakable Charles was, and fearful of hurting him by accident again. _Failing_ again. He wasn't truly ashamed of his desires, which couldn't be helped, but he worried about his self-control.

Erik was drawing closer to the edge of orgasm, only to be thwarted by Charles' skill. He was drawing it out, slowing down or tightening his fingers just so whenever Erik started to get too close. Erik made an impatient sound in response and shifted his hips. When Charles opened his eyes again, they caught hold of Erik, glittering bright in the lamplight. Charles slowed to a crawl, sucking hard and slow, dragging up Erik's cock while their eyes locked together. 

He held Erik in that moment. He would revel at it later, but for now, it felt like being weightless, like time itself had slowed. 

Until Charles sank back down again, and everything came rushing back. He quickened the pace and didn't ease up on the pressure. 

Erik's eyes finally closed against his will. He almost looked like he was in pain, gasping for breath. Charles was driving all coherent thought out of his head, and after a moment Charles heard something soft, ragged. It took another moment to realize that Erik was babbling, another still to recognize it as German. Broken pieces of German, too soft to be intelligible, interrupted whenever Charles sucked a bit harder or twisted and Erik's breathing hitched. 

"... _Charles_..." The fingers in Charles' hair tightened in warning.

Charles' eyelids fluttered open, but he didn't pull off. He tightened his hold on Erik's hips and sank down again, and again, and again until Erik was jerking and coming, back arching, muscles tightening. Warm heat filled his mouth and Charles drank it down.

He felt the wave of pleasure roll over Erik and one word, _Charles_ , etched in his mind as though Charles had scratched it into the soft tissue himself. It was staggering. 

Erik came down from the high slowly, turning boneless against the mattress and panting for breath. He couldn't move. Didn't _want_ to move. His awareness had narrowed down to the blissful, relaxing warmth that had flooded through him and the weight of Charles' body between his legs. Too far away for Erik's liking, but he couldn't manage much more at the moment than to stroke a hand against Charles' cheek.

Charles paused to watch him like that, but it wasn't long before he was crawling back up Erik's body. 

Erik followed Charles' progress blearily, until he was in the crook of Erik's arm, lying half atop him. 

Erik's eyes looked strangely crystalline with the low lamp, creating light and shadow in the thin iris. Charles got a little lost in them as he looked down at Erik until he received the faint sense of his own face back, lips red and eyes unusually dark. 

Charles bent for a kiss, soft compared to what they'd had before. 

Erik was far gentler now, almost submissive. His arms wrapped around Charles as they kissed, this time without any demanding pressure. Erik was drunk on pleasure and Charles' presence, and on the unreality of it all - something wanted for so long, suddenly fulfilled. 

"...schön," Erik murmured once Charles broke the kiss. "...I don't know what to say."

Charles laid his head on Erik's shoulder. He could feel Erik's heartbeat, his breathing, the turmoil of emotions that lay dulled beneath the surface of what they'd just done. The trouble was that Charles felt much the same. Since Erik's show in the gym they had blocked out everything, almost, and Charles could feel all the bad blood between them buried under a fog of pleasure and affection. It took him a long time to speak. 

"I know." Charles let his eyes drift away from Erik's, wandering down the golden skin of his chest instead. When he realized he was avoiding, he lifted his gaze again and met Erik. Charles' brow wrinkled in consideration. "...this could be a...positive development. To our working together."

Erik gave a slow nod. His voice was still thick, and tinged with an accent that was normally inaudible - a sign of precisely how fatigued and distracted he really was. "I don't want to lose this. I wasn't... expecting it, you understand, but... I had been hoping."

Hoping for more than just the chance to dissipate the animosity between them, for Charles and himself to come to a better understanding and work together towards the same goal. Despite how small his hope was that Charles would ever forgive him enough to let him truly close on a personal level again.

Charles couldn't help but be a little surprised. "Yes, I knew you wanted..." But there was a difference between wanting and hoping and Erik had definitely hoped for much more from Charles in the way of cooperation than just this...but then again, he had caught a few of Erik's wilder imaginings and they all involved Charles at his side in more roles than one. Charles had seen this, and now he kicked himself for shying away from those thoughts. Even so, it was still difficult to believe that Erik could still want him with such fierce voracity. "I don't know where it will lead, but this wasn't a mistake," Charles finally clarified. 

Erik regarded him with an inscrutable look for a long moment. Something of what Charles was thinking must have shown on his face, because after a few seconds Erik frowned and his arms tightened around the telepath. "No, not a mistake. Or at least, I hope you don't think of it as one. I don't know how you could be so surprised or think I didn't want you."

He paused, searching Charles face. "...because you did, didn't you? Why? Why would you think that had changed?"

Now it was Charles' turn for his cheeks to color a little. "Need I point out that we've not been on the best of terms lately? And I know how long your memory is." Charles was well aware from the beginning how conflicting Erik's personality could be. There had always been a war inside him. Something between his drive for revenge and altruism drove him, and Charles knew he had been placed somewhere significant in Erik's mind, but even with his telepathic ability it was too complex for Charles to say where. Not only that, but he had not exactly been...active, since the loss of his legs. Charles knew he was still attractive - that was not difficult to see, even from the minds of others if need be, but he was also very limited in certain ways. Ways that, coincidentally enough, would have made him feel more self-conscious with anyone but Erik, as Erik was just as tied to the events on that beach as Charles was.

Erik's expression grew a little distant, and a flicker of pain passed across his features. "I've... well, I'd be lying if I claimed I haven't been angry with you these past several years." 

Charles heard the mental static around Erik increase as he tried to shield his thoughts, or perhaps it was merely a natural reaction to feelings of upset. Regardless, the static did little to shield his mind from Charles while they were touching. Images and feelings flowed through the connection to Charles with nothing to soften the impact: red hot rage and abject despair, laying on the floor of the white room, knowing that he was never going to get out. Knowing that neither Raven nor Charles were going to rescue him, as he'd hoped, and that his captors weren't going to give him the option of terminating his own life.

And then, later, the shock of release, only for Charles to hit him, closely followed by the shock of so many people, so much open space, and humanity proving yet again that his worst fears were inevitable, only a matter of time.

Charles drew his hand up to Erik's face. He let it sweep stray strands of hair back and sooth some of the torment inside him - not with Charles' mind, but with the simple connection of touch, for Erik to see that he was there. 

Charles both did and did not blame himself. He knew more than ever that he should have not left Erik in that prison, no matter his own pain and unsteady control of his own powers at the time. One thought from Charles and he would have known Erik should have never been there. One thought could have saved ten years and so much trauma. But Charles had been in no state to do much more than free him, if even that. So many of those years were nothing but pain in Charles' memory. 

"I'm beginning to believe you now, however," Charles brought himself back to the present. "Although I must say, your mind is rather unpredictable."

That made Erik crack a grin, one that quickly turned into a laugh. Pain was still buried inside, somewhere, but receding slowly with touch and the comfort of the presence tucked beside him. "I'm afraid it's been that way for years, and only gotten worse as time has progressed. Hopefully that's not a deal-breaker. It's nothing I can help."

"I'll find out." The corner of Charles' mouth lifted in return. He didn't know how far this thing between them would go, but he did know that whether it happened or not, he would eventually learn just how bad it could get. But Erik was managing, even when faced with Charles' presence and all the tumultuous desires that came with it. It was true, Charles couldn't blame him for the desire alone. Erik had only ever hurt him by accident, and now with his mind back he was not so helpless anymore. 

Charles burrowed closer still, finding Erik’s scent to be uniquely enjoyable. Even he was having difficulty believing this was real, but there he was in Erik's arms, comfortable and satiated. 

Erik was only too happy to have Charles there. He watched Charles as if, should he glance away or blink just slightly too long, the telepath might disappear. Erik was having just as much trouble believing this was real, that this had happened. His hands lingered, stroking down Charles' back, and then started to press inward, trying to unravel knotted and stiff muscles beneath the skin. 

"I don't... well, there is something you should know. Much as I'd be content to keep you here tonight, I'm not certain if that would be the best choice." Erik gave Charles a self-deprecating smile. "You'd likely not get much sleep, and not due to making up for lost time. I have some trouble sleeping."

Charles lifted his head. He looked to Erik in question, but already he suspected he knew what Erik meant. He could tell Erik was nervous and he didn't necessarily have to feel it - it was written into the crease of Erik's brow. 

"Hmm..." Charles didn't want to go. As soon as he did, the rest of the world would intrude. He would have to go back to his room, perhaps no longer as much of a prisoner, but it would be...not what he wanted. Not this time. Charles lifted his fingers to Erik's temple again, this time not to brush away the loose strands of hair. "I could help you." And then amended quickly, "You wouldn't lose control, but I could help."

Erik froze. His pupils dilated, and not in lust. "I'm not certain you can help with this. It's not just a simple matter of insomnia. I tend to get nightmares, instead of dreams, which wake me up. Or I get... stuck in them, I suppose, whether I remain asleep or wake up. Metal gets pulled to me during the particularly bad ones, and while I've never been injured by it, I've never had the opportunity to test whether the same would hold true for anyone close to me."

Charles had suspected as much. "I'd be able to protect myself now, but if you're certain...." He could already see that Erik was. Erik did not want Charles in his mind, not in that way, and Charles wished for the days when he might have said yes. Charles would have at least been able to dampen the bad dreams enough to let him sleep soundly, but Erik was still tense under his hand until Charles' fingers curled and fell away. "Alright."

"Perhaps sometime. Not now." It was too soon for Erik. He was too uncertain, and this truce, the beginnings of whatever this relationship was, were both too new and too fragile. Letting Charles into his mind to view memories was one thing, but letting Charles manipulate his mind into compliance was something else entirely. He placed a kiss on Charles' forehead to try to ease the sting of rejection.

"You don't have to leave until you want to sleep. I'm not kicking you out."

Charles gave a half smile, showing Erik that he was not stung too badly, even if it was a bit of a cover. "Nevertheless, I should sleep. And so should you. We'll have more to discuss tomorrow." Things that wouldn't go well with their setting now. Erik had plenty more to show him, and Charles thought he ought to save his dignity while he could. With a stretch he lifted himself up on one arm, watching Erik's eyes follow him. 

Erik sat up and leaned in to teasingly kiss Charles' shoulder and neck, reluctant to let him go and even more so to have him leave on a sour note. "Very well. I suppose the sooner you sleep, the sooner I get the opportunity to surprise you tomorrow morning. Do you need any help?" A gesture took in everything - Charles' state of undress, and the distance to his chair, made more difficult from a lack of handholds to assist him.

"Just bring that here," Charles gestured to the chair as he redid his trousers, fighting back the smile Erik had brought to his mouth with the brief playfulness. "If you keep this up, I'm going to make you carry me, you know," Charles teased, but when Erik turned and that wolfish smile was back on his face, Charles knew he'd just done himself in. 

"Oh, what a hardship," Erik replied dryly. Charles barely had enough time to finish redoing the fastenings of his trousers before Erik swooped in. He slid his arms around Charles and lifted him into the air a moment later, grinning down at the telepath. Erik didn't seem to care that he still wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing.

"Unfortunate that I've already arranged for a new chair," he commented, stepping through the doorway and down the hall towards Charles' room. The wheelchair trailed along obediently behind him. "I'd be tempted to destroy that thing for the excuse to touch you, but that's going to be a bit more difficult with plastic."

Charles grew red in the cheeks. He could imagine very well Erik following through on these ideas. "Knowing you, you'll manage just fine somehow." Charles raised a brow at Erik's smug expression. It was hard not to picture them walking back into the East Wing like that though, and the stares Charles would receive. 

As it was, Erik had no trouble carrying him over the threshold of his room. Charles almost believed Erik would be able to carry him all day if only his hands weren't occupied. The chair fitted itself neatly beside the bed, and Erik gently laid him down. 

Erik then made a show of tucking him in, mostly for the transparent excuse of touching Charles again. Sex seemed to have opened the floodgate; now that Erik had received permission once, he couldn't seem to get enough. 

At the moment, it wasn't a problem, but it was going to generate a lot of questions if the behavior persisted when they rejoined everyone in the other wing.

Erik snuck one last, brief kiss and finally straightened up, stepping back a few paces and turning to leave. "...tomorrow, then."

Another day, and whatever it might bring.

Charles watched Erik go, wanting to feel some of the trepidation he had before over starting something like this, but he just couldn't muster it. _This was a good thing,_ his mind told him. He would deal with the consequences in the morning. Or maybe even later still. If they could learn to get along, this could be a very good thing. And just maybe the reverse were true. Maybe with guards dropped, they just might learn to get along.

With that tentative hope in mind, Charles turned out the light and listened to Erik's fading static before sleep took him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. 
> 
> [As usual, come say hello over on tumblr!](http://die--gretchenfrage.tumblr.com/) We'd be happy to get to know our readers.


	8. Chapter 8

A few hours later, judging by a bleary eyed glance at the clock, Charles was roused back into consciousness. Mental discord was somewhere nearby, enough that Charles could almost hear phantom notes screeching and colliding against one another.

It took a few moments for him to wake up enough to make sense of what was happening. The discord solidified during those seconds, centering in a room somewhere nearby, moving slowly. Slowly, and veiled with static. Erik. Erik was awake and somewhere nearby, but not his bedroom like Charles might have expected.

The sharp disturbances were enough to make Charles wary, but he reached out carefully, trying to get a better read. It was little use. The static was maddening as ever. It felt like hitting a solid wall this time, like there was very little Erik beneath it at all.

Before Charles knew it, he was sitting up in bed, pulse quick and immediately awake. His door was still cracked, just the way Erik had left it. Slowly, Charles moved to the edge of the bed, pulling the chair to him, thankful he'd at least kept his trousers the night before. He climbed down carefully, not bothering with a shirt, and, cautiously, made his way into the hall. 

The door to Erik's room was open, the inside completely dark. Erik wasn't there, but Charles could sense him further down the hall, in one of the empty rooms. The hallway leading to it was dark, sending Charles' skin crawling with the imagined sensation of weight hovering above - an illusion, but one that came with the knowledge that the house was deep underground. It felt like anything could lurk in the gloom. 

Just as he reached the closed Door, Charles found it held a sliver of light below. As he drew nearer, pressed almost up against it, he could hear footstep faintly on the other side. Another attempt to glean information from Erik's mind gave him nothing, and Charles finally opened the door slowly, peering through the crack between door and frame.

Erik, blank faced and unfocused, moved around the room slowly. Clad only in soft cotton trousers, his bare feet made hardly any noise against the floorboards. One hand was pressed against the wall, sliding over the surface while he walked a circuit of the room.

Charles realized then that he wasn't conscious. _Sleepwalking._

From Erik's countenance, Charles could not tell whether he was having any significant mental turmoil, other than the unusually strong resonance of static, but still Charles could not discern his emotions at all. Erik might have been in pain or he might have simply been oblivious, moving by rote. The only thing that tipped Charles off was the static. It was harsh in his mind and unpleasant to listen to. Or feel. It was almost tangible as he inched into the room. 

"Erik?"

Erik didn't respond. His eyes were open, but he didn't seem to be seeing the room, or the room's other occupant. There was a slight hitch in his step, rather than smooth paces, and his progress around the room was slow. Much slower than regular walking, although that was perhaps to be expected from sleepwalking.

More alarming was the line. It was difficult to see in the low light, but after a few moments Charles was able to discern that it wasn't a shadow or a natural feature of the room's walls - there was a line around the room that was ever so slightly smoother than the rest, more worn. It trailed off at the corners. Erik's hand was right atop it, following it like a trail.

Faintly, the sound of his fingernails catching at it filled the room. 

Charles felt goosebumps as he began to understand. Erik had been in a similar state after they'd come back from his memory. He hadn't even recognized Charles at first, and this room would not be much larger than his cell. He knew with certainty that Erik did not want him to see this, but Charles could not bring himself to leave and let Erik come out of it on his own. Unfortunately, he also knew with equal certainty that Erik would not appreciate Charles in his head, even to bring him back gently. 

With marginal trepidation, Charles wheeled closer, bringing himself into Erik's path, just enough that he could reach out and ghost his hand across the man’s arm. 

"Erik."

Several things happened almost instantly. Charles' fingertips brushed across Erik's skin, enough contact that Charles felt like he was drowning in despair, in _madness_. Madness that quickly turned to fear and red-hot needles of anger; Erik flinched back from the unexpected obstacle he'd run into, hands clenching into fists, ready to attack and defend himself. 

Charles was pulled in. Or rather, his chair was. The contraption shot forward, colliding into Erik and pushing him against the wall, and then it melted out from underneath the telepath.

" _Erik!_ " 

They hit the ground. Charles tensed, one hand under him for support and the other out by instinct to fend off the other man. Erik got the brunt of the impact, but Charles' instincts redirected and his arm reached around Erik's neck, adrenaline up and every inch of him ready to slip in and shut down Erik's will to attack if he tried. 

Still not fully conscious, Erik felt something touch his neck and panicked. He tried to duck down, away from the hand, only to run into Charles in front of him. Charles, who he didn't recognize in the grips of the waking dream. All he knew was that something was coming from his neck and what was in front of him was preventing his escape.

One hand latched onto Charles' shoulder strong enough to bruise. He snapped at Charles and nearly sunk teeth into his skin before Charles' fingers made contact again and the telepath reached in.

 _'STOP.'_ Charles sent the command into every crevice in Erik's mind, and the body under him froze. Erik's mind froze. All thought ceased to exist. His face was a caricature of terror, as solid and unmoving as a statue. 

Charles sank against Erik’s chest in relief. He held on, but it was for his own support now. The chair was a mess when Charles glanced back at it, completely unrecognizable, just a pile of molten metal. Once he'd regained himself, Charles shifted his embrace, pulling up to make himself level with Erik. 

Slowly, gently, he moved through Erik's mind, looking for the knots of tension, the pits of despair, and the fear that consumed everything else. It was like navigating a field of fireworks, all caught in suspended motion, and Charles carefully dampened them one by one, enough to allow Erik's reasoning mind a fighting chance when he awoke. When Charles was done, he placed his hand to Erik's temple. He took a moment just to look, unable to help it. Erik was beautiful, even caught in the midst of panic, all the more so because Charles knew him. When he was finally ready, Charles let go. _'Come back, Erik.'_

Erik drew in a sharp breath, and another, shivering under Charles' hand and blinking rapidly. His body was awash in adrenaline and mounting confusion, ready to fight for his life against something he couldn't find. He was on the floor with Charles, and his legs felt heavy, and-

Erik registered the touch at his temple at the same time his eyes found what was left of the wheelchair. Charles could see the realization snap into place. Immediately, Erik fixed Charles with a look of concern, searching for any signs of injury. "...what happened? What did I do to you?"

"Nothing." Charles felt how strangely calm he must seem to Erik. "I caught you in time. And I-I'm sorry," his thumb brushed Erik's temple, "but I had to. You were pacing and you didn't recognize me." He could feel Erik's heart pounding under him and was sure that his own wasn't perfectly calm either, but Charles felt safe with his own abilities back, safe in the knowledge that Erik would have a very difficult time actually hurting him.

Charles felt a rush of anger through the connection as Erik realized that Charles had handled him like a toy again, quickly overwhelmed by mortification; Charles wasn't hurt, but he'd nearly been, and now he'd seen more than Erik had intended.

Erik's gaze shifted sideways. He didn't feel able to meet Charles' eyes right then, but all that did was draw his attention to the mangled wheelchair on the floor beside them, melted and frozen midway while it had been flowing up his legs in an attempt to coat his skin in armor. To protect himself. "...I suppose it's a good thing I was planning on replacing that today," he finally said. The corners of his mouth twitched in an aborted attempt at a self-deprecating smile.

"Yes," Charles agreed slowly. "Explaining that would be rather awkward." When that got little reaction out of Erik, Charles curled his fingers through the other man's hair, vying for the attention of his suddenly elusive gaze. "I'm not hurt. And neither are you." He knew Erik didn't want to hear his sympathies, or hear Charles apologize for going into his mind, and so Charles left it at that. Because that was what mattered. He might not have wanted Charles to see this in the first place, but Charles was no wilting flower. 

Erik's brow furrowed for a moment, and the metal around his legs writhed and started to unwind, finally condensing into orbs and hovering in the air beside them. He'd calmed somewhat when he finally met Charles' gaze, tilting his head to lean into his palm. "Good. I'd like to keep it that way."

Erik exhaled slowly to try to rid himself of the rest of his tension. He only partially succeeded. "It's still early, I'm guessing. I should let you get back to sleep."

"Would you...like to come with me?" Charles asked with a hint of a smile. "I think I've proved I can defend myself." The words were out before Charles even thought about them. Damn his lack of resolve. He should have really felt more trepidation over how close he was letting Erik get, but once tempted, he now seemed patently unable. 

The look that flickered across Erik's face said he wanted to. Badly. "You can only defend yourself if you're conscious to do so. If you're able to... put up with my restlessness and occasional sleepwalking, that's one thing, but I have little control over whether I call metal to me while asleep."

Charles sighed and dropped his head to Erik's chest. _Denied again._ And Erik would not consent to Charles putting any restrictions on his dreams before falling unconscious, even if he could remove it in the morning, Charles already knew. He felt a flicker of distress through their connection and Charles finally lifted his head. Erik looked almost pained to have disappointed him. "Alright. Help me back?" 

Erik leaned in and stole a quick kiss from Charles in response, both an assent and an unspoken apology. Within seconds he'd shifted Charles into his arms and stood. The lightness of his burden made his brow furrow again with the thought of just how fragile Charles felt, physically if not mentally. He began to carry the telepath back down the hallway. The metal orbs trailed along behind them.

"You know I'd stay. If I could."

This closeness between them was going to take some getting used to. As naturally as it came - and it did come naturally, it always had between them - it was still strange to have shifted into something tangible.  
Charles let Erik carry him back to his bed, tucking him in for the second time that night, just as he had before. Erik was careful and gentle and very thorough. 

"I think it must be your plan to make me too comfortable here," Charles mumbled as his head hit the pillow. 

Erik finally smiled. "Maybe so," he teased. "How else will I convince you to stay in a broken house stuck underground, unless it comes with benefits and luxuries you can't find back at your manor? You're hardly here for the view, or the cooking." 

Charles looked small, tucked away in such a large bed by himself. Small, and tempting, appearing deceptively vulnerable with half-lidded eyes and bed-mussed hair, even though he'd just frozen Erik in place and tampered with his mind to diffuse an accident. Erik hesitated on the edge of the bed, wanting to stay even though his rationality told him it wouldn't be wise.

The static was there, but Charles felt just enough of the emotion to parse it. He turned his head toward Erik and looked up at him imploringly, knowing just how soft his eyes would be in the light of the bedside lamp. Erik stood as still as if he'd been frozen, watching Charles prepare one last plea. 

"Are you sure I can't convince you?" 

Erik looked a bit like a deer in headlights, motionless while staring at Charles' expression. He was aware that he was being manipulated, just as Charles was aware that he was manipulating him, but that knowledge didn't change the outcome. Erik slowly leaned closer... and then he was crawling over Charles, sliding between the sheets beside him. One arm snaked tentatively around Charles' waist. Charles couldn't help his soft laugh as he turned just enough to look behind him. Erik looked almost shy, and Charles couldn't wipe the grin off his face. Erik had given him room, but Charles scooted back up against him and held Erik's arm in place. There would be no escaping now. Charles was quite content, even if he would be gambling on his own safety to spend the night like this. But Erik was the one wrapped around him, and he knew that Erik's conscious mind wanted more than anything to protect him. If he was lucky, that would keep him safe through the night. 

With that, Charles burrowed down into the covers. "You had better be here in the morning."

"I can't promise, but I'll try." Now that Charles had closed the distance and made it plain that he wanted him there, Erik slowly relaxed. 

He had to have been exhausted, as even close proximity and the newness of the relationship wasn't enough to keep Erik conscious for long. The hand pressed against Charles' stomach grew lax, Erik's breathing became slower and deeper... and the static around his mind nearly dissipated. Or at least, it grew quiet and calm enough that it was nearly undetectable.

Charles noticed it by degrees as he drifted toward unconsciousness himself. It didn't even occur to him until he felt drowsy enough that it might have been a dream. But it wasn't. Either it always happened when Erik slept, or some part of him trusted Charles more in his sleep than Erik did while he was conscious. 

Charles was content to let him be, delving no further into Erik’s open mind than he had before, but as he finally drifted off, Charles found that for the first time since coming here, since a time longer than that in fact, he was almost happy.

When Charles awoke again, there was still a warm presence at his back. It was difficult to say how many hours had passed. Erik's breathing was still steady, and he was quite still, but the haze of white noise around his mind was a giveaway; he was awake, and perhaps had been for some time. 

Charles hadn't moved yet, his breathing had barely changed, he was sure, and gradually an idea came to him. 

He turned his head as if in sleep. Erik didn't move. 

Charles let several seconds pass and then shifted again, this time with his shoulders. He moved back into Erik just enough to apply pressure where they were pressed together and Charles felt the chest behind him take a quick breath. Several more seconds of pause later and he did it again. Again came the breath. 

Charles was glad he wasn't facing Erik because he couldn't hold back his growing smirk.

Even if the shield around Erik's thoughts had been solid enough to keep his emotions from reaching Charles - which it wasn't - Erik's body responded to the teasing in a predictable way. When Charles shifted back again, heat had pooled at Erik's groin and gave no doubt that he was paying very close attention. The hand on Charles' stomach pressed down, trying to keep the telepath close.

Charles let almost a full minute pass before he did it again, this time with a little noise. It was muffled by the pillow, but it was perfect, just low enough to be hearty, but also quiet enough to sound like he was fast asleep. He even heard a little hitch from Erik in return. The hand against his waist slid up just a hair. The hips against his rear pressed forward slightly. Charles wondered just how long he could keep this up before he either drove Erik mad, or he realized Charles was awake. 

He didn't get to find out. Erik, still under the presumption that Charles was asleep, decided to take a more proactive approach to the matter. The hand against Charles' stomach started to move, still relatively innocent, just stroking up along the telepath's chest and down again. Erik shifted closer and Charles felt hot breath against his skin before Erik's mouth followed - across his shoulder, up his neck, all the way to the shell of his ear.

Charles felt teeth nip there lightly at the same time Erik's hand dipped low enough to press against him. He felt himself begin to swell beneath his trousers at the touch, and he couldn't hold back a breath of his own. He didn't have to rock anymore. Erik's palm and their closeness were doing everything for him already. Charles' allowed himself another little moan before, one last time he told himself - just for fun, he shifted again. 

Perhaps it didn't take much to drive Erik mad. Particularly after years of waiting.

Erik nipped at his ear again and then he was turning them, settling Charles onto his back and straddling him. Charles' wrists were snatched up and pressed against the mattress. "...you're not really asleep, are you." Erik didn't sound the least bit displeased about the deception. Far more distracting, however, were the thoughts and images filtering through to Charles' brain. 

Charles' eyes blinked open and, finally, he let his smile come back full force. "Not at all." He caught Erik grinning back down at him, and then they were kissing, immediate and hungry, morning breath be damned. Erik didn't taste bad anyway, and Charles wondered if he really was growing that smitten. He wished he could have lifted up enough to grind into Erik, but instead he slipped out of Erik’s grasp and reached around Erik's back to pull him down, forcing him to do it instead. When they broke apart, Charles was still smirking. A mischievous light that had missing for years danced in his eyes. "Would you like to make me pay for that?"

"I'd like to make you pay more than once," Erik countered. There was something worshipful about his expression, but it was twined with a wolfish look. He ground his hips against Charles again just to watch what effect it had, and recaptured Charles' wrists. Erik liked having him pinned down. He liked it more than just a little. "It's more a question of what you're willing to let me do."

Charles gasped out a laugh, but it was shaky. "Is that so? And twice, you say? You might not realize it, but it's been quite a long time for me." Although Charles was sure that it had been even longer for Erik. He hadn't looked, specifically, while he'd been in the man's mind, but from what he'd seen, he'd be very surprised if Erik had indulged any flings since he'd gotten out of prison. "C'mere," Charles beckoned. When Erik leaned down to him, Charles lifted to brush his lips against Erik's ear. "I know very well what you want to do, but let’s start slow, shall we?" 

Affection flooded through the link formed from their contact. Erik didn't seem to be disappointed; he was willing to take whatever Charles was offering. The feeling was more intense than Charles remembered, even back when they had originally worked together. Something had sharpened the bond that had started forming the moment Charles had dove into the water to stop Erik from drowning himself.

"I've waited over a decade. I think I can accomplish _slow_." Erik's voice was rough when he whispered back into Charles' ear, then nipped at the edge again for good measure.

Charles shivered. Erik felt it. Charles could _feel_ him feel it. 

Charles licked his lips as he projected an image into Erik's mind: Charles, letting his hand wander down Erik's side, fingers dipping between cotton and bare flesh. "Not too slow, now," he whispered with amusement as Erik swallowed. He smirked when Erik realized he wasn't completely helpless without the use of his hands.

Pale eyes fixed on Charles, calculating. It was the same look Erik had given him any number of times over a chessboard, now set into a very different context. He finally released his hold on Charles' wrists and sat up. The bed covers were tossed back and then Erik's hands were unfastening and stripping off Charles' pants and underwear. Quick as he was working, he was still careful each time he had to move Charles' legs.

With that accomplished, Erik moved off the bed entirely to rid himself of the last of his own clothing. He smiled and preened a little as he caught Charles watching.

He looked like carved marble in the low light. Charles would have felt a little insecure had he not gotten such a strong sense of desire from Erik before their contact broke. He'd gotten a pretty close up view the night before, but he hadn't gotten the full effect until now. He was just lifting himself up to make a grab for Erik when Erik bent and was suddenly back on top of him. Charles gasped when they rubbed together. His hands grappled for Erik's hips before the other man caught them again and Charles whined.

Erik grinned and transferred both of Charles' wrists to one hand, pinning them above his head. "I thought someone wanting _slow_ ," he teased, then laughed under his breath at the look that earned him. He leaned down to kiss away any protests that were on the tip of Charles' tongue. "I didn't think I was going to have to be the one to tell you to be patient."

Erik shifted his weight slightly, then raised his free hand to his mouth and spat into it. Charles had some idea of what was coming, but feeling it happen was another thing entirely. Erik aligned their cocks together and wrapped his slick hand around both of them, then began to stroke lazily.

Charles' mouth fell open and his breath hitched. Erik looked so _pleased_ looking down at him. So self-satisfied. Charles would have loved to buck up into that hand and throw him off his game, but fate would leave him helpless to endure whatever friction Erik was willing to give him. He did, however, manage to lift just enough to attack Erik's mouth. And then Charles couldn't stop. As Erik's grip tightened, Charles' kiss grew desperate. He felt his chest heaving. His blood was quickly rushing south, Erik calling it to his hand as though it too were infused with metal. 

Erik's hips thrust against his own hand, adding to the friction he was generating from his fingers. The more desperate Charles seemed to get, the more aggressive Erik was in turn; he couldn't invade Charles' mind with telepathy, so he focused his intent on claiming him any other way he could, getting as close as he was allowed.

Erik was too inexperienced to be skilled, but skill wasn't what was sending Charles' blood racing.  
" _Augh_ ," Charles moaned when they broke apart. He was making so many sounds. He'd always been a bit vocal, but this was ridiculous. Every time he gasped he barely managed to hold back Erik's name. The way he was looking at Charles, the things Charles could _feel_ in him, it was suffocating. Completely overwhelming. Experience be damned. Telepathy be damned. Erik didn't need it. Charles felt desperation building inside him. He didn't want this to be over so quickly, but he could barely take it. There was just so much pent up inside Erik. " _Please..._ "

Erik's gaze fixed on Charles' face. His hand tightened and sped up. He was experiencing the same amount of pleasure - Charles could feel the echo of it - but he refused to close his eyes. Erik wanted to watch. He wanted to see Charles' features twisted up in pleasure, all of his confident, controlled, seductive persona melting away, and _know_ that it was because of him.

 _The one person who hadn't thought him a monster._ The thought bled from Erik's mind to Charles, along with how Erik was seeing him at that very moment - wanton, desperate, beautiful. Perfect. Or at least, perfect in Erik's eyes.

Charles' eyes widened. The thought hit him hard. It sent a full bodied shiver through him and he had to blink to clear his vision. Suddenly there was a tightness in his throat, but Erik wasn't slowing down. Erik wasn't deterred by the force or the shock of that particular sentiment; instead he was spurred on by it and all Charles could do was hold on. He was drowning in it, drowning in Erik, whimpering with every stroke, hands clenching, wishing he could wrap his arms around Erik's back and bring him close, _never to hurt again_. He felt his own sentiment enter Erik's mind as surely as though Charles had whispered it aloud even though he hadn't intended to. 

Erik's eyes suddenly closed at the thought. One more thrust, one more stroke, and he came undone, uttering Charles' name in a strangled cry. Sticky heat slipped between his fingers and dripped onto Charles' stomach. Erik was panting for breath and released his hold, just for a moment.

He let go of Charles' wrists in order to slide an arm underneath him, drawing Charles' closer, and then his hand closed around Charles' cock and began to stroke again.

The glide was a little easier this time with the wetness between them, and Charles was now free to throw his arms around Erik. He pulled Erik down as close as he could, wanting to feel every inch of him, digging his nails into Erik's back, as smothered physically as he was mentally. Erik sped up the pace and Charles felt his face contort in the ecstasy of it. He must have looked like he was in pain, but he didn't care. Erik was with him, Erik had made an effort to bring them peace, Erik had done all this for Charles...for them both, really. 

Several more strokes and Charles climaxed just as hard, one hand fisted in Erik's hair, crying out as he came. 

Erik was content to stay just like that, tangled in each other, mess and all. Both of them caught their breath, and Erik nuzzled against the crook of Charles' neck. He barely noticed the prickle of dark stubble against his skin. Wrapped around Charles, his thoughts were starting to calm and settle again, and with it, the veil of static grew thinner.

 _'If you fall asleep on me, I'm going to wake you up in the most unpleasant way.'_ Charles was too tired, too content, and too satisfied to speak aloud and still he couldn’t help the humour. His laugh ruffled Erik's hair when Erik only mumbled in response, completely unintelligible. Charles wasn't letting him go either. It felt wonderful. In truth, Charles was on the verge of drifting back off himself. _'Let's stay in bed all morning.'_ If it was morning. For all he knew, they'd woken up again in the middle of the night. 

"...can't." Erik's voice came out muffled. He finally pried himself up and away from Charles just enough to be able to look him in the eye. "I have more things to do today than just you, unfortunately. And we'd better get cleaned up, because I have a delivery coming, and if I don't answer the door, the delivery girl tends to just come right in looking for me."

Erik's gaze flickered to Charles' neck for a split second. A secretive smile touched his lips.

Charles lifted his hand to it and winced. "You _didn't._ " Erik's s smile grew into a smirk. "You _did_. I am borrowing one of your turtlenecks again. Astra would be devastated," Charles groused. "I need a change of clothes anyway, not in the least because Victor would out us on one whiff." He climbed up onto his elbows, fixing Erik with a look and forcing him back. Charles had no idea how they were eventually going to bring this to light, but he did know that it had to be...done tactfully. 

"Not to ruin the surprise, but that's part of the delivery. New clothes, along with the plastic-framed chair. You can borrow clothes until she gets here, but considering I don't know how much time we have, we should probably get washed up and presentable." Erik didn't seem too displeased with the interruption. Charles looked wrecked, and Erik was feeling upbeat for once.

"I thought we'd have breakfast in the other wing again, then go up to the surface for our session, as there's little for me to destroy up there."

Charles groaned. "Alright." He wrestled himself into a sitting position, complaining in spite of Erik's infectious optimism. Charles had never been able to help being sucked in when Erik was like that. It was a good thing it happened rarely. "Bath first. And then you'll have to get the supplies or Astra is going to wonder what on earth happened to my chair and why I'm going around starkers." He eyed Erik with a furtive smile of his own. 

"It's really quite simple, what happened: you woke me while I was sleepwalking, and then you were too damn tempting for me to resist. A power which I would advise you not to abuse," Erik added with one raised eyebrow and a hint of a grin.

Erik slid off the bed and stood, turning around to gather Charles up in his arms and head towards the bathroom. A tiny flicker of satisfaction sparked in him at having Charles like this - and guilt, because he knew Charles wouldn't approve and because he knew delight in his partner's dependence was not a normal, healthy emotion. "Did you want privacy, or would you mind company? The other bathroom in this wing is still nonfunctional and buried in debris, so we'll have to take turns otherwise."

"I would not mind company," Charles pressed his nose to Erik's ear. He was glad to find himself quickly getting over what insecurities he had about his non-functioning legs. He'd jumped in this far with Erik, he might as well go all the way. "And stop guilting yourself over carrying me." He nipped Erik's ear. "Of all the insignificant things.... Besides, it's different when you have my permission. When we're good with each other. I even kind of like it." 

Charles was actually able to see Erik break out into gooseflesh. Erik turned to look at him, eyes wide. "...are you sure you want a new chair?" he asked jokingly. "Although I suppose it does give things away a bit, if you were wanting to keep this... secret. I don't particularly care if the Brotherhood knows, but I can see that it would cast some doubts on our judgment. On both sides."

"I think it would be best if they found out...after we establish some sort of concrete alliance. If we can make some progress on that front, Hank and Alex and the others would be more willing to go along with it. Pietro is going to have a good laugh, and a good ogle," Charles chuckled. "Speaking of students who'd harbored crushes." Erik did a double take and Charles grinned innocently. "But that also reminds me, I'll need to contact Hank and the school. Today preferably. If he hasn't already sent a search party." 

Erik's expression sobered. They entered the bathroom and Erik set Charles down briefly so he could get the water in the tub started. The lack of contact shut off the emotional connection between them, putting Erik back into a place Charles couldn't read or feel. "How upset, precisely, do you think Hank is going to be? He's quite skilled with technology, which means a phone call is out of the question unless we teleported some distance away to keep him from narrowing down on an area to search. A visit isn't out of the question, but I'm concerned about whether he'll insist on you staying. Or whether he'd call in the authorities on me."

"Honestly, a visit would be best. With you and Astra at my side, that way you will be sure I won't simply be abducted back." Charles offered him a hint of a smile. "Hank isn't so finicky about me going into his mind to share what happened. And he's had a lot of time to trust my judgment. I'm not so foolish as to think this will be easy, but if we can hold onto a truce for long enough, it might work." 

Steam began to rise from the tub, floating through the cool air and drifting against Charles, causing him to shiver. Then Erik was at his side again, lifting him and helping him over the ledge. 

Erik got Charles settled in one portion of the tub and made certain he wasn't going to slip before he grabbed a bar of soap and stepped in himself. He submersed himself entirely for a moment and rose back to the surface dripping. His brow was still furrowed in thought and some measure of disapproval. 

"He's not going to trust your judgment if he suspects we're involved in more than a truce," Erik pointed out. "You'll forgive me if I'm not enthusiastic about seeing Hank again, given that he tried to drown me to _death ___, not just unconsciousness, not that long ago."

"Yes, I don't blame you for that. And I have a feeling you're right, he will be even more wary if we reveal this new development between us. Which is why I think it's best to hold off on that for a while longer." Charles took a moment to dunk his own head under, and since he had to use both his hands to steady himself, came back up with wet hair matted over his eyes. He felt Erik's flicker of mirth as he pushed it out of the way. He reached over and plucked the soap out of Erik's hand before lathering it over himself. "You're going to get a lot of distrust there, I'm afraid. Not only from Hank." 

"I'm used to distrust." Erik continued to watch Charles wash, but something about his expression had shuttered and gone blank. It wasn't the grinning, happy face of the man Charles had just been in bed with, but the emotionless facade that was brought to the surface every time Erik slipped into his Magneto persona. "We'll keep things quiet for now, but I have to warn you, Charles: if I get attacked during our visit, I'm not just going to stand still and get hit." 

Charles set the soap down, feeling his gut churn. Still, he moved calmly enough, dunking himself under one more time, allowing Erik a moment to think. "I understand. And I'll be there. It should not come to that, and if it ever does, I would like to defuse the situation as quickly as possible." 

They watched each other for one silent moment. Charles knew now just how quickly Erik could go off, and he couldn't be entirely blamed for it either. But if that happened, there was very real danger of someone being seriously injured. 

"I have no intention of harming your students. Or Hank," Erik added with a slight curl of his lip. "But to be safe, I think it's imperative that you make everyone at the manor stand down, as you said, as quickly as possible." 

Erik retrieved the soap from Charles and began washing himself, not meeting Charles' gaze. Erik didn't want to strain things between them any further, but neither of them had illusions about what he was capable of, and Erik didn't particularly want to lie to Charles. "I think it would be better if you did the talking, between you and Hank. I have no real desire to interact with Beast again." 

"Yes, I agree." Charles watched his hands move. "And he will not want to listen to you until he's had a chance to converse with me, to make sure I'm not being manipulated into a trap. Which, to be fair, I would not hold it against your Brotherhood members who suspect the same against myself. Aireo, for one. He's not convinced of it yet, not even close, but he's wary it'll happen and soon." Charles touched Erik's knee. Aireo wasn't a threat yet. Even if he did confront Erik, it could be resolved. 

Erik dunked himself again to rinse off the soap, then shifted closer until he was sitting beside Charles. "Aireo's simply afraid, and with good reason. He's learned to trust my judgment over the past few years, even when he doesn't understand my reasons. He might question the impact and sway you have over me, but he'll follow until there's evidence I'm putting us in danger without a good reason. Sabertooth is going to be more difficult." 

"Ah yes," Charles agreed, "Him, I would worry about." Especially if he ever visited the school. Sabertooth was in some respects near invincible, and undaunted by threat of pain. Charles did not yet know how well his violence was usually tempered when dealing with people who were not Erik, but that display earlier did not leave him with the highest ambitions. His students were capable with their powers, but the majority of them were still very young children. 

Erik glanced over. He didn't need to be a mind reader to be able to catch some of what Charles was thinking. "I can handle Sabertooth, if it comes to that. I rarely bring him with me precisely because he can be poor at following directions that aren't to his tastes. He's invaluable in raids, but he has poor impulse control that makes him completely untrustworthy in diplomatic situations." 

Erik cleared his throat. "If it's any consolation, I've had what might be termed a good influence on him, although I'm certain he'd complain about it. Neither of us have the cleanest track records, but he's not gone human hunting since he joined me and I forbade his hobby." 

Charles raised his brows and nodded, taken by surprise. "Well that's a bonus, to be sure." He glanced to Erik, who was still looking at him earnestly. "We should get moving before Astra decides to show up. Depending on how close she teleports, I might not be able to sense her until it's too late." She would get much more than a nice view of Erik exercising if that were the case. Hopefully she knew better than to wander into Erik's personal halls, although Charles didn't hold out much hope. Astra was a curious girl. 

Erik nodded and climbed out. After, he helped Charles out of the tub and to a seat on the step, then retrieved towels for each of them. He dried himself and knelt once he was done to help Charles with his legs. He knotted towels around both of their waists purely for the sake of collecting water, as there was little point in preserving modesty now, and lifted Charles into his arms again. 

Erik had just turned towards the door when his eyes widened. He started to move faster. "She's here already, at the door." He moved out into the hallway, intent on crossing the short distance to his bedroom, dressing quickly, and unlocking the Vault. 

He didn't get a chance. No sooner had he stepped out into the hallway than Astra turned the corner at the other end, pushing a wheelchair that was well-loaded with shopping bags. Her head turned and they both froze for a moment. Astra went bright red, her mouth dropping open. 

Charles heard a silent, collective _fuck_ echo round the room. His grip tightened around Erik's neck and he knew he was just as red. Her mind raced. Erik's mind raced. And yet they were both frozen in place. 

Astra was trying to search for another possible explanation for why Magneto might be carrying Charles through the hall like this, anything other than what her eyes were obviously telling her. Perhaps it was because he needed help in the bath? But her logic shot down one after another until Charles finally broke the silence. 

"Hello, Astra." 

"...h-hi Mr. Xavier." Astra's voice came out as a squeak. Her mind was suggesting that now would be a good time to backtrack, but her feet were rooted to the spot. "Um. S-sorry, this is one of those- ...I should have- ...I didn't know-" 

"You should have respected my rule to wait for me to answer the door before just teleporting in, yes," Erik said. Astra's eyes went to him and his spine stiffened even further. There was nothing for it, now, so he gritted his teeth and walked closer, closing the distance to his own room. 

Charles did not grit his teeth. He kept a level and determinedly pleasant eye on her as he watched her resist taking several steps back. She knew better than to run. That would only be more awkward. 

Erik took Charles through the threshold of his room and Astra did not attempt to follow. He brought Charles to a wooden chair next to his worktable and set him down carefully. Together they exchanged a look. This was a lot sooner than either of them had expected to tell anyone, and they were going to have to deal with it. 

A muscle in Erik's jaw twitched, but he turned and walked back out of the room to converse with Astra. It was quiet enough that Charles couldn't catch the words, but he could certainly feel Astra's embarrassment... and disappointment, and a certain amount of speculation. She was a bit heartbroken, holding the remains of her crush in her hands, but her relationship with Erik went deeper than mere infatuation. 

Behind everything else, Astra felt concerned. 

Erik returned with the delivered goods and shut the bedroom door behind him. "I told her to wait in one of the spare rooms. I'd rather we have a chance to talk with her than have her wait outside the wing and be tempted to run off and tell the others." 

Sure enough, Charles felt her presence recede and then halt not far away. He tipped his head back in the chair and closed his eyes with a sigh. "She's going to be suspicious soon," Charles mumbled before he righted himself to take a look through the bags, searching for clothes, anything he could throw together quickly enough. And something that hid his neck. It didn't take him long to come up with a set. To his immense relief, Erik, or maybe it was Astra herself, had picked up a warm turtleneck. He began pulling on clothes while mulling over how they could possibly handle this. If he asked her to keep it quiet, then her concern would multiply tenfold, even if he explained the situation. If he allowed her to tell the others, it could prove disastrous…with Alex especially. 

"Soon? She's _already_ suspicious, Charles. If I had been dressed, she might have explained it away as you needing assistance, but there's little rational explanation for what she saw besides what actually happened." Erik was dressing as quickly as he could, pulling on trousers and, after pausing to take in Charles' outfit, forgoing a t-shirt in favor of a longer sleeved shirt. Dressing too lightly would only call more attention to how warmly Charles was dressed. 

Charles sighed in exasperation. Then he sat up straight. "That telepath you recruited before, did she figure out she could get through the static if you were in contact?" 

It occurred to Charles that Astra might very well know of Erik's static shields if she'd been there when their first recruited telepath was, and if so, it was entirely possible that Astra might come to a conclusion about Charles' motives with disturbingly concrete evidence. 

Erik frowned. "No, we never tested that, and I'm not in the habit of letting questionable mutants close enough to touch me. Particularly strangers who might be able to use contact to overpower me. Our negotiations didn't go very far, as she didn't want to put herself in danger or be noticed. She simply mentioned that she wasn't able to read me like the rest of the Brotherhood, while we were talking. It was just a theory of mine that touch might bypass the barrier." 

Charles sighed in visible relief. "Good. Let's not mention that then." He rubbed his hands over his face and, with a sigh, looked up to steel himself. Erik moved the remaining bags off the chair for him and, with help, Charles managed to climb up into the seat. 

It was quite remarkable, actually, made from very sturdy material, almost like that he’d seen at the Pentagon years ago, most of it clear. Erik definitely had found a way to have it custom made. There were no electronics, so Charles had to put his hands on the wheel rims to move, but that didn't deter him.  
When he was ready, he shared another look with Erik. He sighed. "Alright. Let's see what we can do." 

"Right." Erik looked resigned, and more than a tad angry. He hadn't planned to have to deal with this so soon, or within such an embarrassing context, but in some respects it was better that it was Astra who'd caught them, out of all the possibilities. She would have to be dealt with delicately, but her loyalty and sentimentality were such that it wouldn't prove impossible to reason with her and get the situation under control. 

Erik opened the door and let Charles exit into the hallway before he followed behind him. It wasn't difficult for Charles to hone in on what room Astra was in. When they entered, they found her sitting in an old, uncomfortable-looking armchair, her legs kicking back and forth in the air out of nervousness. She stilled when both men were in the room and color crept up to her ears again. 

She looked like a child who knew she was going to be scolded and Charles couldn't help but take pity on her. "Astra." He waited for her to look up, "It's okay, we're not angry with you." Her cheeks reddened further, if it were possible. Charles sighed and wheeled farther into the room, coming as close as he dared to not make her feel uncomfortable and folding his hands in his lap. "Erik and I are the ones who have some explaining to do," and Charles felt the static roil behind him, but he ignored it, licking his lips and going on, "This wasn't ah, exactly planned, and you came upon us rather suddenly. Erik and I have always...been close, but we haven't been lying to you. I still stand where I stood with the Brotherhood only yesterday." 

A suspicious dampness rimmed Astra's eyes. She still didn't _quite_ look up. "I just... I didn't know. I got excited and wanted to see how you liked what I'd brought for you. I didn't think about-... um. I didn't-" She waved her hands awkwardly. "I didn't think you were gay. Both of you." 

"I'm not," Erik countered flatly. He ignored Astra's confused look. "Charles is correct in that this is very recent and somewhat unexpected. I didn't lie to you and the others regarding why I wanted Charles brought here. My objective was, and is, to construct a working relationship out of this truce so that we can protect mutantkind together, rather than work against one another." 

It was Charles' turn to let his eyes drop to his hands. "I know how this might look to you, and to the others especially. I can only assure you that it's not, and hope that you would believe me. I could show you my intentions," Charles raised his fingers to his temple just to be clear, "but I would not ask you to trust a telepath you may already have doubts about." Charles wanted to add that Erik was usually shielded from him as some sort of consolation, but even that wouldn’t be much relief when it was sometimes shaky and faded entirely when they were in physical contact. Which would now presumably be happening often. 

"...I like you. I do," Astra protested softly. One heel thumped back against her chair again, rapping out her discomfort. "You seem _actually_ nice, not the fake nice I used to see a lot when people felt sorry for me or knew other people were watching, but didn't really want to do anything to help me. I don't think you're really here to send us all to prison, no matter what Aireo thinks." 

Erik stiffened, and Astra's eyes widened. She ducked her head and clasped her hands together. "I don't know. Everyone else should know, because it's... not really fair if they don't, because... well, everyone knows dating does stuff to you." She flushed again. "But I think Aireo would be even more suspicious if he knew." 

"Yes, I'm sure he would be. I'm not unaware that he thinks this whole attempt is a foolishly sentimental endeavor on my part that's doomed to fail," Erik said. "And Mastermind and Rictor aren't back yet. I would prefer that Charles and I have a bit more time to figure things out between us, and instill more confidence in the Brotherhood about our mutual cooperation, before we make any announcements." 

Charles gave her a moment to digest this information. He didn't speak until he felt Erik’s logic tentatively solidify in her mind. "I agree. At least not until we can get Alex and Pietro feeling safe and comfortable here and in contact with the school. I do not want to inadvertently arouse suspicion where there need be none. I am sorry to put such a burden on you, and I hope it will not be for long. But yes, give us a little more time and we will tell the others." He bent his head to search out her eyes imploringly. 

Astra looked between Erik and Charles and nodded slowly. Her gaze caught on Charles in particular. She knew he'd seen into her mind the previous day, and thus had seen her crush on Erik, and that he would probably be able to sense her distress and disappointment at having her feelings shattered in such a way. "...just not too long, okay? I really don't want everyone to find out I kept things from them, especially important things." 

"No, not too long. With any luck we can avoid that." Charles tried to give her a smile, but there was too much sympathy in it and he didn't quite manage. She was too shocked to feel the full pain of her loss yet, he knew, but he felt sorry for her all the same. And she honestly liked him. That would lessen the blow, if only a little. So would the fact that Charles was male, too different for her to feel the need to compare herself and find the places she might imagine she fell short. With that in mind, Charles resolved to keep an eye on her. "Out of all the confidantes we might have had, unexpectedly or no, I'm glad it was you." 

"I'm glad, but I'm still really sorry." Images flooded through Astra's mind - she might not have _exactly_ gotten a full eyeful, but she'd gotten enough, and she wasn't completely ignorant of what the two men might have been doing. "I won't come in without waiting anymore. I... I hope we can still be friends." 

Charles' mouth spread into a smile. "Oh Astra, of course we can." He moved to her side and, feeling it welcome, placed an arm around her shoulders, all the more moved at her genuine uncertainty. He would not begrudge her what she saw either. Charles thought he'd looked rather fetching in her mind’s eye, even in the midst of the shock. "And I should thank you for all the shopping you've done for me. I don't think I've looked better." He preened a little, just to make her smile. 

She gave a quiet, stilted laugh, but Astra did actually smile back, looking up at Charles with a measure of relief. 

Both of them, perhaps, were surprised when Erik closed the distance and crouched on her other side. Astra had a moment of uncertainty before Erik shook his head and gave her a small, fond smile of his own. "You can stop worrying that I'm angry with you. We're alright. Just be mindful that I do set rules for good reasons next time." 

Astra didn't flinch from the soft reprimand. Her smile widened instead, and she leaned in to wrap her arms around Erik in a hug. Erik's eyes widened, and he hesitated for a moment before tentatively placing his hands on her back and returning the embrace. 

Charles hid his smirk with his sleeve. Erik saw him over Astra's shoulder anyway. 

This had gone better than expected, in no small part due to the girl's trusting nature. Charles felt relief wash through him. They would have the others to contend with soon, but there were more pressing matters first. Namely, assuring the school that he was still alive and not currently being held captive. He met Erik's eyes and, for the first time perhaps, felt like they really just might be in this together. 

Erik tried to pull away before Astra was ready to let go, and for an awkward second he nearly pulled her slight frame over the side of the chair. When they'd resituated themselves, Erik cleared his throat. 

"I'm afraid we have one more request to make of you." Erik waited for Astra to regain her focus. "We need to make a short visit to Charles' school, the manor I've shown you photographs of before. There are people at the school who will be trying to search for Charles right now, and they need to be informed that he is both safe and here of his own free will. Charles telling them such in person will be far more convincing than an untraceable long-distance phone call." 

When Astra's eyes widened, Charles interrupted. "We don't need to do it right now, and not before telling the others so they can be certain I've not absconded with your Magneto, but it should be sometime today. …if anyone is in fact still at the mansion." He felt Astra catch onto his worry. He already knew she understood how he felt in that regard; she'd told him as much before, and not for the first time Charles was thankful she was such an empathetic youth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find us on tumblr: [die--gretchenfrage.tumblr.com/](http://die--gretchenfrage.tumblr.com/)


	9. Chapter 9

"After breakfast with the others in the east wing, perhaps. They should know that we're leaving and that training is cancelled for today." Erik frowned and glanced sideways at Charles. "Charles will need to defuse the situation quickly. If he cannot, Astra, I'll need you to be ready to teleport us away to safety at a moment's notice."

Charles nodded. "If we can get just close enough to the mansion, I should be able to contact them before we approach. They'd very likely assume a threat if we simply appear in the courtyard. Hank tends to get a little...jumpy in these situations." Neither Astra nor Erik looked particularly happy to hear this. "Alex and Pietro are not going to take it well if they have to stay. Although I don't suppose Alex would let me send him back while I stay behind at this point." Pietro though... Charles' eyes shifted to Erik's, knowing Erik could see the thought as it came to him. 

Freeing Pietro might be just the thing to demonstrate their good will. 

"Not unless he's blindfolded," Erik objected with a sharp look. "I'm willing to trust you, Charles, and Maximoff thus far hasn't proven troublesome, but he also is entirely too easygoing. I don't trust him to guard his tongue if he knows where we are, and I don't trust Hank not to disobey your commands and follow his own convictions should he learn our location. He wouldn't even have to take direct action, simply tip off the right authorities who are looking for us."

"Fair enough," Charles conceded. He had no wish to out the Brotherhood's location, not as things were going. 

Erik settled a little, and so did Astra, her eyes stopped saying between them, wary of one of their usual arguments perhaps. 

"How about we see what's for breakfast?" Charles broke the silence. "We've all had an early morning." Truthfully, he had no idea when the Brotherhood rose for the day, but Charles assumed that with this many young men and women, they would not be early risers if they could help it. Even he could do with a bit more sleep, but Charles was far too wound up to even consider it. 

"I don't think anyone else is up yet," Astra replied, which only confirmed Charles' intuition. "We can head over and see, and try to wake people up, I guess. They'll probably be grumpy at having to get up early, even if it's for a good reason."

Erik sighed through his nose. It was to be expected that the Brotherhood members weren't disciplined, as they were mostly teenagers, not weathered soldiers, but his anxiety about the day's upcoming visit left him in little mood to tolerate their sloth.

Astra got to her feet. "We've still got pancake mix in a box, and everything else needed for it. I'm not a great cook but I think I can manage pancakes, and maybe people will get up faster if they smell breakfast."

Charles had to laugh at the dichotomy between the two. "You do that. And if you can't get them up, I can. And I'm sure Erik won't have any trouble either." Charles smiled at him pleasantly, imagining the many ways Erik in a foul mood might wake his followers. Charles well understood the problems that came with working with teenagers, but his school ran on a schedule, one that was slightly more robust than the Brotherhood's. 

"I'll wake them up, alright," Erik grumbled, and when both Astra and Charles smiled at him he turned his head and looked away with a blank expression. Petty as it was, seeing a reminder of just how easily Charles struck up rapport and trust with other people rekindled a sense of bitterness in Erik, who'd always struggled to establish trust and authentic friendships.

"I think we've still got some packets of bacon, too. I don't think I've ever seen the boys not show up at the table when they know there's going to be bacon." Astra laughed, oblivious to Erik's change in mood. "I don't think I'll need you two to chuck them out of bed."

"Alright. Plan A and Plan B." Charles wheeled back to let her up. He made sure his collar was adjusted, noticing the way Erik straightened and his attention followed the movement. Charles might annoy Erik often enough, but he was perfectly aware of how he might counteract it, too. Small reminders of their intimacy went a long way. Charles smiled back at the both of them, Erik in particular, when Astra noticed he hadn't immediately taken the lead. "Coming?"

"Yes." But that was yet another irritation for Erik, Charles taking the lead again, as he had in the dining hall the previous day. Newly kindled relationship or no, Erik's mood was quickly souring as he fell into step with the other two.

Astra skipped on ahead with the untempered energy of youth, grabbing the hallway corner to zoom around it like an airplane turning on wingtip. She stopped at the metal door only out of politeness, waiting for Erik to slide all the locks back without a touch and let them out. "C'mon, slowpokes. Don't tell me you're tired already."

" _Slowpokes_?" Charles shot back. "I'll have you know I could be wheeling circles around you right now. But I'd rather not embarrass you." Astra, as expected, rolled her eyes. Charles swore he saw Erik's brow twitch out of the corner of his eye. Though the static was up, Erik was looking more and more surly. This was now perhaps Erik's natural state of being when faced with someone so chipper, but Charles knew that once upon a time he'd had his own sense of humor. Even if it involved pushing people off satellite dishes.

Astra ran a few paces ahead, only to trip and rise into the air. Vines of metal had untwined themselves from the grand staircase banister as she'd darted past and wrapped around her leg, then hauled her up. Astra shot Erik an upside-down grin and disappeared. A moment later a giggle sounded behind he and Charles, and a hand touched Erik's back. "Tag!"

Erik spun around, but Astra was already gone. Her playfulness had done its job, however: a small smile graced Erik's mouth, even if he still looked a bit grim. His eyes scanned the room and found where she was hiding behind a chair, and Astra yelped as a nearby piece of metal stretched out and tapped against her foot.

Charles couldn't hold back a laugh. Erik's smile was distantly familiar, but Charles tried to remember if he'd ever seen Erik _play_ before and he honestly couldn't. The static even seemed lighter, buzzing at a different pitch that Charles was just beginning to notice. 

He watched as she darted away and more metal tendrils came to follow like little, teasing snakes. Erik's attention didn't falter, even when Charles turned to watch him as they made their way across the great foyer. Charles wanted to ask so many questions of him, but also didn't want to spoil the marginally improved mood. 

The game ended when Astra, still laughing, teleported just above Erik and tackled him. Or tried to; she ended up dangling from his shoulders until he reached back and looped his arms under her legs, then proceeded to carry her through the door to the east wing and down the hall.

This wasn't remotely the same behavior Erik had had with the original students that he and Charles had found. Then again, perhaps Erik had started to feel differently when he was managing a group of students by himself, particularly when a few of them had troubled family histories. Aside from Sabertooth, the Brotherhood was turning out to be more like a misfit family of choice and circumstance than an army of juvenile delinquents.

That was a realization Charles was relieved to come to. They passed through the long halls, Astra quite comfortable at Erik's back and Erik, true to form, not seeming at all inconvenienced by the extra weight. 

As Astra predicted, Charles felt the minds in the nearby halls all fast asleep, even Victor, but Charles would wager that of them all, he was the lightest sleeper. 

They passed the empty dining hall and found the kitchen. When they entered, Charles eyed the high stove and countertops. "You know, I've been known to make a mean waffle in my day." 

Erik tried to glance backward at his burden and failed. "I don't know if we have an iron." His knees bent slightly, and Astra took that as her cue to slide back down to her feet again.

"Yeah, nothing that fancy, unfortunately. Just a couple of skillets." She shrugged and dug two pieces of iron cookware out of the kitchen and set them on the stove, then paused and gave Erik an exaggerated look of suspicion. It quickly transferred to Charles. "Don't make him explode things. I don't want the pans melting on me and getting batter and grease everywhere."

Erik's hands raised in mock submission. "Is this your way of ordering us out of the kitchen?"

Astra only stared. 

"Right. We'll leave you to it, then." Charles took up the wheel and backed out slowly with Erik. Astra got to work, removing items from the cupboards and refrigerator before he lost sight of her. 

Back in the hall, Erik was not much more expressive than he'd been earlier, but Charles thought he looked a little less grumpy. 

"Would you care to do the honors, or shall I?" Charles asked. 

"Wake them? By all means, go ahead. They'll probably find your methods kinder than mine," Erik laughed. He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. "Psychic nudging is likely to be gentler."

Charles raised his brows and indulged him with a secret smile. It didn't _have_ to be gentle, but one by one, he let his consciousness move through their rooms, slipping into each mind and rousing them from slumber, pulling them one after another up from the fog of dreams with one request. _'Meet us in the kitchen. Your presence is required.'_

Charles sat back and folded his hands, watching Erik watching him. 

Nothing happened immediately. Each Brotherhood member woke slowly and crawled out of bed to get dressed, which meant they had a few minutes before people would begin to exit their rooms. 

Erik spent the time just... watching Charles, if it could be called that. He seemed intent on communicating promises for later through his eyes alone, since they were back to pretending they were old friends and not-quite-adversaries when in the presence of the rest of the Brotherhood. Later too, when they'd be visiting the school to assure the staff and students that Charles was unharmed.

Pietro was one of the first to come down the hall, yawning but upbeat. "Hey Chuck, nice to see you still got it." 

Charles tore his eyes from Erik to give the boy a smile before Pietro went on. "So what's up? 'My presence is required'? Could you be a little more vague, maybe?" 

"We're having breakfast," Charles said pleasantly, "And then we need to discuss a few matters. Oh, and Erik, you might want to let Alex out," Charles felt his other young companion tumble out of bed, throw his shirt on, and proceed to jiggle at the door handle in frustration.

Erik's eyes flicked towards Alex's bolted door. He waited until he felt Alex tug especially hard before he opened the lock from a distance, causing Alex to tumble backwards with a curse. Erik couldn't help but smirk a little when the blond came out of his room looking grumpy.

But Erik's expression sobered when the next one out was Sabertooth - no less dangerous for all that he was disheveled, even in casual clothing. Their eyes met, and after Erik gave a minute nod, Sabertooth leaned against his door frame to wait. No longer exiled in punishment, but not precisely welcome either.

Charles let the humor slip from his face. 

"What's going on?" were the first words out of Alex's mouth when he reached them, but fortunately Charles didn't have to answer. 

"Top secret," Pietro jumped in. "They're telling us at breakfast."

They waited for Pyro and Aireo to emerge from the hall, understanding coming to them as soon as they saw the small gathering. Just in time, too. Charles could already smell the tempting aroma of butter wafting from the kitchen. 

"Now that you're all here, we can tell the rest of you what Astra already knows," Erik began. "The schedule is changed for today. No training, but I still expect you to tackle your other studies and duties. I'm going to reactivate the elevator, so you can go up to the surface to relax once you finish your lessons and chores, but a day trip will not be an option today. Astra is coming with me."

Erik glanced sideways and down at the telepath. "As is Charles, and Pietro."

Their eyes widened and Charles felt the attention from everyone in the room at once. Especially Alex. 

" _What_?" 

But Charles raised his hand, effectively cutting him off. "Alex, let him explain." 

Pietro's eyes darted back and forth between them, curious and wary all at once. The rest of the Brotherhood turned to Erik.

"I'm well aware that this sounds like a risk," Erik continued. "In some respects, it is. Our truce, and the subsequent partnership, has _only_ been brooked with Charles. I trust Charles to keep to the terms of our agreement, but his allies don't yet know about the deal and aren't bound to it. They won't agree to follow Charles' orders by a mere anonymous phone call. On the contrary, they'll be more certain that Charles is kidnapped and in danger, and it will be troublesome and perhaps dangerous to try to talk them down once they're convinced we've made the first move to instigate war between our respective groups."

Sabertooth bared his teeth in a grimace and Aireo's nose wrinkled in displeasure. Erik glared at both of them. "Charles' allies at the school will be more apt to listen to him in person. After a short discussion between the two of us, it was agreed that sending one of our guests back would be a further sign of our sincerity. We made the decision to have Pietro return to the school. The visit should be short, so you should expect Charles, Astra, and I back here later this evening."

"I should go with," Alex cut in immediately. 

"No, Alex. The Brotherhood needs a measure of assurance that I will return, willingly, and you are it," Charles spoke up coolly. Alex shut his mouth, and Charles could almost hear his teeth grind while the Brotherhood eyed them warily. Everyone's hackles were up, Charles could feel it. Aireo especially was quickly running through ways to poke holes in their plan, which, Charles had to admit, could easily be done. 

"This is precisely why we made the choice we did. Let's be honest, _Alex_." Erik regarded the blond with a cold look. "Between you and Pietro, you are far more hostile. Astra and I are already going to be taking a risk without having to worry about dealing with you. Pietro will go back to the manor, and you'll stay and be the one to remain with Charles once he returns with us."

"This is bullshit," Aireo snapped. "You're going to be walking into a school full of mutants like this asshole we've been guarding."

Erik's cold gaze resettled on the redhead. "Are you saying you don't trust my judgment in putting my faith in Charles, that he would defend us? Or are you doubting my capacity to fight our way out, if necessary?" 

Charles felt Aireo's pulse go up, both conviction and nerves rattling him as he faced Erik, and Charles resisted the urge to speak up. He would have the chance to defend his intentions, but right now this was between Erik and Aireo. 

Pietro took one not so subtle step away from the glowering redhead, not wanting to be in the vicinity if Erik decided to get into another fight. They'd all witnessed the last one well enough to know better. 

"You really gonna do that, if push comes to shove? Grind up your friend's students?" Aireo was scared, but he wasn't backing down. He was scared for himself, but also for Erik and what would happen to the rest of them if Erik was suddenly gone. "I doubt your truce would last if you had to fight your way out and Wheels suddenly had a bunch of bloody puddles on his hands."

"Then he best be sure that his staff and students listen promptly and keep to our deal, for everyone's sakes," Erik replied smoothly. "Shouldn't he?"

Sabertooth grunted, but there was a slight tilt to his mouth that said he'd be more than pleased to see such a bloodbath. Or, perhaps, that he already had and was recollecting old memories with fondness.

"Yes, he should. And will," Charles responded coldly. He remained still, watching Aireo with narrowed gaze even though the young man only had eyes for Erik. Still, the more Charles stared, the more he felt Aireo's attention waver to him. "Even I don't know what to expect when we visit the school. For all I know, they are already out searching for us. Either way, we will plan our approach carefully," Charles admitted, preferring to detail the situation instead of letting himself be worked up over Aireo’s comment.

"I have survived far worse than the lab I broke you out of, Aireo. Compared to other risks I've taken over the years, this is nothing." Erik turned his head to look at the rest of the Brotherhood, fixing them each in turn. "Astra is required in order to actually get there unobserved. I'm not taking more of you because, if things go sour, I don't want any of you in the line of fire or to be put in a hostage situation, however briefly. Some of the school staff will feel quite threatened enough with only me on their doorstep."

Astra walked out of the kitchen at that moment, balancing a platter heaped with pancakes in one hand and a second tray with butter and syrup in the other. "Out of the way, unless you want me to drop breakfast. Move! These are heavy!"

She must have heard them arguing in the hall because she was actually quite good at breaking up the little standoff. Pietro and Alex stepped out of the way, so did Pyro, and even Aireo broke his attention to give her space. It wasn't completely dissolved, they still locked eyes and half attempted to reform their stances, and though Charles was glad of her determination to keep the group together, even in little ways, the tactic was somewhat juvenile. They did need to discuss this. 

On the other hand, they were dealing with juveniles. Pyro glanced after her and the stack, and so did Pietro, and Charles sensed their desire to follow. 

Erik noticed the same signs. "We're moving this to the mess hall."

"Sabertooth just finished _fixing_ the mess hall," Pyro pointed out.

"As he was ordered to, and he's lucky I didn't assign him more work than that." Erik turned and began walking down the hall. The Brotherhood, almost as a unit, began to follow. "This decision isn't up for debate or a vote. I am informing all of you that I will be gone for the day, where I am going, and that Pietro is returning home. The rest of you can get ahead in your studies, or spend the day relaxing on the surface, or doing independent training, but you are not going to accompany me."

As expected, Alex and Pietro hung back to wait for Charles. 

It was only a short walk to the dining hall and all of them split into their usual seats at the table, Alex, Pietro, and Charles taking up the few left open for them. Charles did not attempt to move to Erik's side, or show any further camaraderie with him, aware that the Brotherhood were all keenly aware of his presence more than ever, especially in relation to their leader. 

It was all very quiet at first.

Pyro had been mostly silent up until that point, but he finally straightened and looked back and forth between Charles and Erik. "I don't think it's a smart idea for you to go with just Astra. You should take at least one more of us with you, just in case."

"The more people who accompany me, the more nervous Charles' staff, or perhaps even his students, might get," Erik pointed out. "I have little idea thus far of what they've been told at the school, or absorbed from the sensationalist media. We don't want them to think they're under attack."

"You have no idea if they've going to consider that anyways, even if you show up with just Astra." Aireo speared a couple of pancakes with more zeal than necessary. "Better to go in prepared to fight if necessary than hope that an olive branch works. Or have you forgotten everything you taught me?"

"That," Erik growled, "is _different_. This is a school full of mutants. _Children._ "

"The point of all this is that they see me first," Charles spoke smoothly. "Unharmed, unbound, with Erik at my side. Though we have many talented mutants, they will be far more hesitant to attack without warning if I'm between them and your leader. The more of you we have with us, the harder that will be. All I need is five minutes." Charles noticed the way the Brotherhood took him in, suspicion written into their eyes. 

Pyro regarded Charles carefully. "Are you powerful enough to help protect him, if one of your students freaks out and calls the Feds and your school gets raided? Or would you just give him up out of fear that they'll shoot at or lock up your students if you fight? You don't seem to be reading minds all the time, after all, so I can't imagine you... controlling everyone at the school. Some of your students probably think Magneto _is_ the leader of a terrorist group and will get scared no matter what you tell them or how in control you look."

Charles raised his brows and gave Pyro a carefully considered look. "You don't always need to control minds to get people to trust you. Especially when you have worked with them every day when no one else would take them in." He felt the boy's gut twist. "They _will_ be scared. They _will_ want to protect me from a group they believe has kidnapped me for what reasons they can only assume are hostile. You want assurances I can't give you, but I know them, and I know that if we do run into trouble, they _will_ trust my word." Charles let that sink in before he added, "And believe me, no one there will be calling the FBI." 

The group around the table absorbed this. None of the Brotherhood looked pleased. 

"You better hope they don't," Sabertooth finally growled. "I haven't had my fun yet. If you get Mags locked up again, we're not just going to rip up the sad little wardens to get to him. I'll be paying your school a visit."

Erik's gaze locked onto Sabertooth, full of unspoken violence. The room lights flickered, and a rattling sound echoed through the dining hall as everything metal within range began to vibrate slightly, like hounds, trembling with anticipation, waiting for their master's signal to attack. "Do I need to teach you a lesson again, Victor? You are not going to threaten Charles. Not ever again."

Everything else went silent. 

Charles remained completely still. He was not tempted to return Sabertooth's threats, not even in warning. Nothing Charles could say would make a difference to Victor and he was well aware of it. If the threat ever did come to pass, they would see just how far he could get within Charles' reach. 

But Erik had reacted for him. And now everyone was staring openly. Even Charles had to say that he was honestly surprised at the force and venom in Erik's declaration. 

Sabertooth returned the glare and inhaled deeply, then paused. 

His expression slowly transformed into a toothy grin, one that split apart as he started to laugh. Laugh hard enough, and long enough, that his palm ended up slapping the table and rattling everyone's place settings. Erik seemed even more angry about Sabertooth's mirth.

"Fine, fine. I'll leave your crippled pet alone."

"You are going to do more than that," Erik hissed. "You're going to address Charles with respect, and you will leave him _and_ his school, all of his students, alone. Or I will devise a punishment that will keep you occupied and repentant for more than a couple of days."

Bizarrely, Sabertooth only seemed more amused, sniffing once, chuckling softly, and raising his glass in a mock toast towards Charles and Erik before draining its contents. 

Charles reached into his mind and…pulled away sharply. To Charles’ credit, he didn't react, but just barely. He remained perfectly still as he sensed with every fibre of his being that Victor _knew_. He could feel blood rise to his face, and valiantly he fought it down while other eyes round the table darted between the three of them in confusion. 

And now, finally, Charles realized he was glaring after all. He fixed Sabertooth in his sights and imagined how immensely satisfying it would be to wipe his mind then and there, if only to get rid of the lewd smirk he levelled at them. Charles could _feel_ him gloating inside, but after a pause fraught with tension, it didn't seem like Victor intended to make his discovery known. 

"Obeying to the letter, but not the spirit, will win you no favors, Victor." Erik's expression finally calmed and he turned his attention to the food in front of him. The rest of the members of the table relaxed, just a bit, once it looked like another fight wasn't immanent. Only Charles picked up on the rage that slipped out of Erik's mind in myriad flashes - protectiveness and an urge to leave Sabertooth screaming and subdued on the floor, never to even _think_ about hurting or disrespecting Charles again.

Charles' eyes dropped to his own plate and he resolutely did not glance at Erik across the table, even if he felt a flood of gratitude and...and a strange kind of excitement following Erik's vehement defense of him. He was all too aware, however, that he had lost several points of standing in Victor's regard. Not that he was particularly concerned with Victor's opinion of him, but the beast of a man did have some sway over the rest of the Brotherhood and Charles could not know if Victor would keep their secret until they were ready. 

He sliced into his pancakes and, in spite of everything, found that they were actually quite good. The sounds of silverware chimed softly across the table, but no one else spoke.

Aireo and Pyro shared a glance with one another, then with Astra. Pyro cleared his throat. "Ok, I get that you're set on not bringing anyone else with you. But we're going to do normal operating procedure with this. Since you said this was going to be a quick trip, if you're not back or in contact within 24 hours, we're going to assume something's gone wrong."

"And come get you, teleporter or not," Aireo added. "And I hope you realize, if shit goes south, you're gonna leave Rictor and Mastermind in a bind if _they_ get in trouble."

Charles finally glanced at Erik, who did not look any happier. 

Rictor and Mastermind had been gone for a while now, but they were also travelling by land. Charles knew from the lack of unusual concern that the pair must have checked in according to this procedure, and their plan with whatever lab they were investigating was either already underway or was soon about to be. 

Charles was also not to naive enough to believe they had a working phone here. Astra would be their main means of communication. 

"I'm very well aware, as you should also be, that I'm capable of taking care of myself." Erik shot Aireo a pointed look, one that turned to take in Pyro as well. "We'll be back before the alarm point. If Charles isn't able to keep sufficient control of the situation and the worst happens, I'll deal with it."

"Even so." Pyro regarded Charles and Erik with determination. "If you're not back in time, we'll start moving to come get you. It'll be harder without Astra, but we'll get there."

Charles shifted, not comfortable with the idea of Aireo or Sabertooth at the school. "If it comes to that, I cannot stop you, but if you arrive on peaceful terms, you will be welcome." He declined to say what would happen if they did not arrive on peaceful terms, though he knew they were all imagining it. Charles was not one to make threats, and not in the least because he would not defend the school. If they were potential enemies, he would not elaborate on his own defenses. By his side, Alex and Pietro were radiating tension, but they knew Charles' way and they too refrained from speaking up. 

"So long as you're not holding Astra and Magneto prisoner, or didn't hand them over to anyone, then there won't be a problem." Pyro wasn't quite looking Charles in the eye. He liked the telepath, and he was uncomfortable with having to take a stand, or to confront what was being highlighted by this entire conversation: they weren't allies. Not yet. No matter how much any one of the Brotherhood members liked Charles, he was still an unknown factor.

"I appreciate the concern," Erik stated dryly. "But it's unnecessary. We'll be back before the cutoff time, negating any need for you to consider a rescue operation. I'd suggest you drop the matter before you cause Charles and his allies to reconsider whether they want to join forces with someone issuing them threats."

"I think we all understand each other quite well," Charles picked up his fork again. He looked at Pyro and Aireo. "You've made your terms clear." 

In spite of Erik's warning, Charles did understand their caution. He would feel similarly if the situation were reversed. One way or another, both sides had to move forward. Charles could not simply leave Hank and the others to speculate about his fate. The Brotherhood had found themselves an incredibly good hideout, but even so, it would not be inconceivable that one day Hank might find them. 

The rest of breakfast passed in tense silence. Sabertooth left abruptly once he was done. Aireo radiated disapproval and anger that was mostly ignored. Pyro ended up striking up small talk with Pietro, slightly tinged with melancholy. The two had had the beginnings of a friendship and, now that Pietro was leaving, Pyro was uncertain whether or when he'd get another chance to interact with the other teen.

Aireo and Astra finally stood to collect all the plates and take them off to the kitchen for cleanup. 

Pyro stood, awkwardly offering Pietro a half smile. "...I was going to ask whether you needed help packing, but I forgot you didn't really bring anything."

Pietro had a little more flare for providing humor to the situation, standing up and holding out his arms before dropping them to his sides. "Nope, just me and my fantastic self." 

Miraculously, he got a small, begrudging smile out of Alex. 

Charles could feel how sorry the blond would be to see Pietro go, even though Alex knew it was for the best. Still, Alex did not like the thought of Charles returning to the hideout and it just being the two of them against the rest of the Brotherhood. He had not taken well to what hospitality they had been offered. 

Alex stood and helped Charles with his plate, thoughts churning and already preparing himself for the wait while the others were gone. 

"We'd best get going." Erik stood and glanced at Charles, then Pietro. "We can wait for Astra to finish up near the kitchen."

After a moment of hesitation, Erik looked at Alex. "If you have any requests for Charles to bring something back for you, now would be the time to make them."

Alex looked at Charles uncertainly. Charles raised his brows, inviting him to do so, which Alex had obviously not expected. 

"Couple extra sets of clothes would be nice..." Alex continued in his thoughts, projecting loudly. There was no way Charles could have missed it. _'And tell Scott...tell him I'm okay and to be good. Tell him I'll be home soon.'_ "And a newspaper, maybe," Alex finished.

Charles gave him a small smile. "Of course." He turned to Erik. "Shall we?"

Erik nodded and led the way, giving Pietro and Charles a bit of space. Pyro shoved his hands in his pockets as they left, still sullen about everything, but determined to stick to his duty anyways. Alex still wasn't trusted to be wandering around by himself, which meant Pyro was going to have to watch him while Astra was gone.

Once they reached the doorway to the kitchen, Erik rapped his knuckles against it. "Astra, we'll be ready whenever you have a minute."

They were suitably distanced from the rest of the Brotherhood now, albeit just around the corner, but the tension didn't lessen. 

"You guys are gonna miss me, I know," Pietro leaned against the door frame, giving Erik and Charles one of his too friendly smiles. 

Charles couldn't help returning it, indulging the boy. "Yes, we will." It honestly wasn't the best time for this kind of pseudo heart to heart, but Pietro never really cared when it came to these things. 

"Especially you, Mags," Pietro's smile widened. The boy winked, and Charles snorted. 

Erik blinked, mystified. It took him a few moments to figure out what the teen might mean, given that he always seemed to be on the edge of a joke even at the most serious of times. Erik's eyebrows knit together in confusion when he realized that Pietro might _actually_ be somewhat serious - particularly when he recalled what Charles had said earlier about the boy. "...er. Well. Hopefully, if all goes well, you'll be able to come back to visit once our alliance is secure. Without the serum or any other unpleasantness."

" _Absolutely_ ," Pietro stretched and Charles quelled his laughter with his fist. 

"C'mon, Let's go wait for Astra in the foyer. I imagine she'll have an easier time covering that distance if we make the jump from the surface." Charles effectively saved Erik when Pietro nodded.

"Right." The boy cracked his knuckles and slipped away from the door. 

Erik shot Charles a look behind Pietro's back that was full of bewilderment. He already had an awkward time navigating his relationship with Astra - not quite parental, carefully stepping around the girl's crush to spare her feelings and their friendship. He didn't know how to react to Pietro, particularly given that he'd not talked with the boy and there wasn't any mentor relationship barring the way. 

Erik had found the boy's flirtations flattering, but also unsettling. "...when we have a moment, you'll have to tell me how you deal with that," he muttered under his breath.

Charles didn't mind letting his grin show through as they followed. Pietro, though sensitive in some respects, was not particularly so when he was flirtatiously messing with someone.

_'I can't exactly blame him,'_ Charles thought back and knew, even with the static, that Erik was out of his depth. He caught Erik's wary glance sweep over him again and Charles relished it, if only to needle him further. 

A slight flush of color tinged Erik's cheeks. Erik didn't have the telepath's gift, and he couldn't respond the way he wanted to. They had agreed not to be open about their relationship yet, and their run-in with Sabertooth had been too close of a call.

Erik closed the distance anyways, reaching out to touch Charles' shoulder. More than touch. There was a slight crackle of electricity that passed from Erik's fingertips to Charles skin, even with the barrier of clothing in the way. He smirked a little when Charles jumped from the static shock.

_'I'm going to get you for that,'_ Charles chastised him as they entered the great open hall. 

Pietro whistled in awe and it echoed off the crumbling walls. "Don't think I mentioned, but you guys got some sweet digs. Even if that painting up there's a bit creepy." He jabbed his thumb at an old and fading tapestry of a dour looking man, possibly the owner of the house. 

"Yes, this place is a magnificent find," Charles agreed, feeling Astra moving down the halls, hurrying to catch up. 

"A number of things about the house are a bit creepy, including the fact that we’re underground, but I suppose that fits with the whole 'evil terrorist' reputation," Erik joked. "Next best thing to a secret lair in a remote dormant volcano, which is surprisingly hard to find."

"We are _not_ moving to a _volcano_ ," Astra said once she reached the rest of the group. "I don't want to move at _all_. Do you know how many trips it took me for all of this? _Waaaaaay_ too many."

"Nobody's moving yet," Erik replied with a grin. He led them out the front door and into the cave, making a beeline for the mechanical lift that would bring them to the surface. "Although, speaking of: Pietro, come here. We have to blindfold you, just in case."

"Kinky." The boy grinned and Astra's eyebrows shot up. Charles rolled his eyes. 

But Pietro went up to Erik and refrained from making any further comments. He tilted his head up and closed his eyes in a surprising show of trust, waiting for Erik to do what he would. …perhaps there was a little more to Pietro's teasing after all. 

Erik did an admirable job of hiding his unease. He dug a clean handkerchief out of one pocket, folded it into a strip, and secured it over Pietro's eyes. It was a flimsy measure at best, but it would have to do. The danger at this point wasn't so much that Pietro would decide to betray them, but that he would do it unwittingly with the wrong comment. Or would give up information to someone on the other side that had some powers, mutant or chemical, to pry loose what they wanted to know.

Once Pietro could no longer see, Erik guided him with one hand on his shoulder, while Astra hung back to walk with Charles. Everyone climbed onto the metal platform and it slowly began rising to the surface.

The ride felt longer this time, but Charles suspected it was only because of the extra company. The cave was also a little lighter. Not by much, but just enough that he could see his hands in front of his face. It became brighter and brighter as they rose, daylight filtering down to the craggy rocks around the lift, bouncing off some of the more luminous veins of minerals, and gradually lighting the interior of the cavern. 

_'Beautiful,'_ Charles whispered into Erik's mind just before they reached the surface, sensitive to Pietro's temporary blindness. 

Erik turned and, once Astra had stepped off the platform, gave Charles a quiet smile that said he agreed with the sentiment, if not the focus.

Once they were all on solid ground and far enough away from the fissure that they didn't need to worry about anyone falling in, Erik spoke to Astra. "Getting all of us in one go will likely be a strain. To be safe, I want you to take us through a few points in the stopover chain. Which ones don't matter, so long as you pace yourself.”

"Also, when we get close, we'll need to arrive a fair distance away from the school itself," Charles added. "If we show up without warning, there could be trouble. Granted, we'd have the element of surprise, but I'd like a chance to contact Hank before anyone sees us. It's not far from North Salem, if you can get us there I just might be able to reach far enough to speak to him." 

"You'll have to show Astra an image of where you want us to go, once we get close. She needs to have seen a place before to teleport there. Not such a problem in the age of photography, but still a limitation." It didn’t show in his voice, but Charles knew how Erik was putting his trust in him to dissuade Hank from a distance from any sort of overreaction.

"That won't be a problem." Charles summoned up his recollection of North Salem, the drive there from New York City, mile by mile, and then out into the winding roads of the upstate area - countryside and estates on rolling hills, the lake, all leading up to his family estate - and once he had them, he eased the images into her mind. 

Her eyes widened and Charles made sure not to overload her, taking her through the location slowly, gently. The human mind could be such a delicate place. 

Erik watched, and waited. He always found it intriguing to see Charles work. When Astra blinked and her eyes refocused, he smiled grimly. "...ready?"

"Whew.... yeah, I guess so." Astra glanced at Charles and gave him a nervous smile. "Don't take this the wrong way, Mr. Xavier, but you're a little bit scary."

Charles laughed and he could tell it reached his eyes. Still, he knew her comment rang true with both Pietro and Erik, even if he couldn't read Erik at the moment. "I've been told." It was both a compliment, and a little embarrassing whenever he showed someone a little too much, when they felt he was a little too powerful. 

When Astra was ready, she held her hands out. Charles reached for one of hers and Pietro's, who gripped back tightly. 

Erik formed the rest of the chain, holding Pietro and Astra's hands in his own. "Whenever you're ready, Astra."

"Right. Deep breath: one, two, th-" Astra's voice cut off, along with the sunlight and the feel of the wind. There was nothing but blackness, nothingness, someplace neither warm, nor cold…and a sensation, very slight, of falling.

Everyone bounced slightly, on their feet or wheels, as they dropped out of teleportation an inch above the ground. Ground full of green, leafy things; they were in a field somewhere, out in the open. A farm was viewable not too far away, painted a classic rustic red and surrounded by fields that were finished with the seasonal harvest. Giant rolls of hay stood on the cropped ground.

"Can I look yet?" Pietro asked hopefully. 

"When we get there. That was only the first hop," Charles reminded him. 

It was sunny enough, but the chill in the breeze told Charles they'd moved a very great distance out of the desert. The coming autumn was already making its mark on the land. If Charles had to guess, he would have estimated somewhere in the middle Midwestern states. 

"Ok. Ok, I'm gonna do two shorter jumps, one more pit stop and then to the place you showed me, Mr. Xavier," Astra said. "So don't move or inhale too fast on the first stop, because I'm going to jump pretty much as soon as we land. Ready?"

"Ready," Erik replied.

The farmland blinked out. The air was much cooler at the next point where they materialized. Giant, rocky hills were all around them. Or perhaps they were up in the mountains, and the inclines Charles could see were simply a small part of them. The air was cold, even with the sunshine, and it felt thinner.

Erik squeezed Astra's hand and the hills vanished. When they dropped to the ground again, Charles recognized the road and the surrounding foliage, now turning into the fiery colors of autumn. They were about a mile and a half from the mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Step into the abyss: [die--gretchenfrage.tumblr.com](http://die--gretchenfrage.tumblr.com/)


End file.
